


Fragile Feelings, Fragile Progress

by candiedbonemarrow



Series: The Epilogues They Deserved [1]
Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: EVERYONE IS OVER 21 as dictated in canon, Eventual Smut, I'll tag any chapters with sex/violence accordingly before they begin, M/M, Multi, Not all text quirks will be used, Plot-centric, Slow Burn, erikar - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-05
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2020-06-09 21:48:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 65,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19484698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/candiedbonemarrow/pseuds/candiedbonemarrow
Summary: Feelings can get confusing when your whole life is chaos, but they're working on things.





	1. Karkat Binges Netflix for the 20th Time This Week

**Author's Note:**

> This entire work actually came to be when I read Alone Together by SlaveToMyKeyboard. It's my favorite Erikar work, and the journal entries there sparked the flame that would eventually become this fic. I'm so in love with them. I've never seen another fic writer write them before and it gives so much plot and builds the world and creates such an atmosphere that I, I can't breathe. It steals my breath from me. I have my own journal entries here, don't worry, I don't take from this at all, but god, copy and paste this link into your browser and read it, I would fucking die for this fic it's s o. G o o d . https://archiveofourown.org/works/5672290/chapters/13067188
> 
> Note: The journal entries don't kick in until a little later so, don't chew on your nails wondering where the fuck they are. For now, just enjoy a single chapter of Karkat living his life.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I mean, you'd think Netflix would be enough for someone.

What fucking vacation? No, Karkat totally didn't plan a vacation, at all. It totally didn't get cancelled and everything is totally fine. He didn't schedule two weeks off or anything like that. He wasn't planning to be all the way in some hybrid tropical desert state with deliciously nutritious avocados, watching a bunch of otters play around with their silly little clam murder rocks, only to go shopping later for some sort of inevitably recycled yet designer clothing and wear it to dinner on the beach. No. A much needed stress reliever AND fun? Oh, that's blasphemy! Karkat would never need to relieve stress OR have fun! Having fun sucks! It sucks so bad that he might prefer shoving hoofbeast manure onto a plate of shit roaches and fungal-infested, sweaty beach flip-flops, and then shoveling that delectable mixture into his delightfully clean Christian Suburban Mother mouth! Mm! Wow, what a preferable choice to ever daring to have _fun._

Netflix can only offer the watcher so many new shows before it suggests the same things over and over again and said watcher wants to chuck his stupid little thinkpan organ into a fucking trash-heap of rotting medical waste. Stranger Things? They came out with a new season a few days ago. He should have taken a week, at the very least, to finish the first season, but instead, he finished all three seasons in two days.

Two. Days.

The dissatisfying crunch of salty chips can only be matched by the dissatisfying salty edge to his bitterness.

A few of his friends had gotten together and planned a trip to California months ahead that would have probably cost them all, individually, something close to 15,000 dollars. No, it wasn't too bad, Sollux and Feferi offered to foot the bill. But since they got sidetracked and decided to book _an entirely different trip for themselves_ during the time they'd be in California, Karkat had to cancel all reservations they'd made and tell everyone they'd have to do it another time. Gamzee was cool with it, luckily, though Nepeta was devastated, and Tavros was really looking forward to visiting a few farms down there. He can't really blame anyone but himself for it, really. It was his idea in the first place, and regardless of Feferi's front, if it wasn't made out to be her idea, she didn't want anyone taking part in it. Stupid gigantic troll empresses and their stupid giant egos. Or, rather, stupid puny Karkat with his stupid wriggler brain. Plans? Being carried out? Preposterous. He's never got that to happen, ever, and that's not sarcasm.

One of the few good things about this radical-christian-anti-vaxx-mom riddled planet is that it's not Alternia, and he'll take two boring weeks of vacation time wasted in his human-designed house over spending another hour in that filthy stenchhole, shit-soaked star system. It's relatively nice here. There's punishment for culling people! There's places without dictatorship! There's no drones! No hemospectrum! No threat of him being culled for being a filthy mutant blooded troll! With Feferi ruling, he wouldn't have had to worry about that anyway, but her rule is remote, and who knows what's really going on on Alternia? For all they know, Alternia could have been destroyed. Everyone could have been killed by drones, or some epidemic. Civil war, even.

Still, he mourns the loss of his sweet, sweet vacation, his only escape from being everyone's therapist - including his friends'.

He numbly scrolls through a different genre, before deciding that if he was going to sit through more human horseshit, he was going to need some snacks. And proper hydration, preferably of the gator-ade kind. Is that how people spell it? That's how he spells it, as it clearly has gator in the name.

His legs threaten to snap under him as he gets up, tunnel vision swarming him, the feeling of fainting prickling in his limbs. He hasn't been up in, what, hours? It can't be too long, though, since the last show he watched was only three or four episodes long, and the episodes weren't long. He makes his way to the kitchen carefully, leaning on the wall for support. He may have stubbed his toe a few times. He may have also, cursed at stubbing his toe. Such is natural.

The fridge swings open only after too much effort from his soggy couch-potato arm.

"Goddamnit, I'm out of fucking gatorade?" he grumbles under his breath, as he grabs this, sprite, drink, instead. Yes, he is out of beautiful, glorious gatorade, chock full of sugar and electrolytes, and in many delicious flavors that, thankfully, do not take grubs to make. Oh gatorade, how he misses you so. Your cooling nature and your crisp, refreshing taste. God, gatorade is amazing.

He'll have to make due with this treacherous Sprite. Lemon lime? Filthy. Disgusting. Horridly sharp citrus and horridly sharp carbonation that burns his soft mutant throat and mouth tissues. How rude. How despicable. Just like the despicable salt and vinegar chips he was eating earlier.

Salt and vinegar chips should not exist. Fuck those. They're pointy.

He grabs a full bag of them anyway, making sure it's FULL, and not full of nitrogen like those fucking cheap ass Lays bags, and tucks it under his arm along with his sprite can, and makes his way back over to the couch. His seat is no longer comfortably warm. Instead it smells of sweat, and feels gross, and he doesn't like it. But what's this "House MD" show? A medical show? He's heard these are pretty good, but he hasn't gotten the chance to watch one yet because he's been so busy dealing with other people's shit-

And of course! His fucking pesterchum goes off just as he sits down! He groans, slaps his palm to his head, but decides to check the notifications.

"Fucking great. Right now, Captor?"

twinArmageddons [TA] began pestering  carcinoGeneticist [CG]

TA: hey KK ii have 2omethiing iimportant two tell you before ii forget

CG: HELLO SHITSCRAM. IT'S NOT LIKE I WAS DOING ANYTHING IMPORTANT

TA: come on KK ii know you're 2tiill grumpy but FF planned thii2 not me

CG: I KNOW, I KNOW. WHAT DO YOU WANT CAPTOR?

TA: FF ii2 planniing her liike, 23rd earth biirthday celebratiion or 2omethiing? and 2he told me two iinviite you ahead of tiime 2o we diidn't have two bother wiith anythiing but 2peciifiic2 down the road

CG: HM. I DON'T KNOW HOW I FEEL ABOUT GOING TO SOME SHITTY EARTH BIRTHDAY PARTY

TA: oh come on KK you can't be that mad about iit

CG: I TOTALLY AM SO SHUT YOUR FUCKING NOOKSUCKING GOBSMACKER BEFORE I POP IT WITH MY FIST

TA: lii2ten, we're even iinviitiing ampora, can you ju2t come plea2e?

Wait.

Ampora...

CG: You're inviting Cronus? Does that mean Kankri is going too, or what?

TA: no you fuckiing 2hiit for braiin2 ii mean Eriidan Ampora, the ultiimate 2hiithead

CG: You fucking hate Eridan

TA: Ii know, but FF wanted two iinviite hiim for 2ome rea2on. Look the party ii2 liike a month away from now 2o ju2t thiink about iit, okay?

Why the hell would Feferi want to see Eridan's face now?

TA: KK?

Now, to Karkat's knowledge, Karkat has been the only one to talk to Eridan since everyone went their own ways, besides the occasional pestering Vriska or Sollux might pull on him. This is sudden news. There's gotta be some reason behind it, and while he won't ask, he's suspicious...

... Speaking of Eridan, he hasn't talked to him in at least two months? He wonders how he's doing.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began pestering  caligulasAquarium [CA]

CG: HEY ERIDAN YOU THERE?

He waits for a little while, no answer. That's alright, Eridan usually answers within the hour, if not immediately, so maybe he'll watch an episode or two of this new House show he's found.

It's actually quite dramatic and heart-wrenching, and he never knew he could get emotionally invested in a character so fast. There's bits of romance, but most of it is workplace drama and people close to death. It gets him every time in romance, but for it to be such a high-stakes environment in the first place... it's brilliant. No wonder people watch these. And doctor house is such a fucking asshole, he's so into it. Not like, sexually or anything, but god, he's an interesting character, he could watch him simply stand there and do nothing all day and the tension House radiates would be enough to keep him entertained. He gets squeamish at the sight of all the blood though, maybe because it's so close to his own blood color. He becomes engrossed in it, watching for what seems like an hour to him. Though when he pulls out his phone to check the time...

"It's been four hours and he still hasn't replied?"

Right. Okay, it's happened before, but it's a little worrying. Still, maybe he's just doing something right now -

That is, of course, he could be, but Eridan has been completely logged out of his Trollian handle for almost three weeks.

Straight.

"Oh, fuck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so this is a short and (kinda) sweet chapter, I was going to do Eridan's view next chapter but that'll probably end up being chapter three. I hope you enjoyed it!


	2. What a Fucking Headache

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karkat gets his daily workout in. In more than one way, of course. Can't forget to exercise every aspect of yourself, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read it and decided to give kudos, this fanfic may not have a shit ton of views but I'll tell you what, the few kudos on this work happen to be more kudos than I've ever gotten in my life for this shit and my heart is beaming. Your kind encouragement means a lot to me.

Round and round, looping around pieces of furniture, burning holes in his carpet. Anxious teeth grind away at his bright yellow fingernails. A breath, maybe two, is all he can manage, before he starts to suffocate over his crippling fears. Come on, Karkat, breathe, you can't help anyone unless you help yourself first. Maybe he should remember that advice the next time someone talks to him for something.

It can't be that bad. He's just imagining things, maybe. Maybe his soggy, TV-rotted thinkpan couldn't see things right and it only looked like Eridan had been off of Trollian. If he looks this time, he'll be there, and maybe there will even be a message for him, and everything will be okay.

... Still the same. Deep breath, Karkat.

"Oh, Fuck, oh fuck oh fuck you're so fucking _stupid,_ Karkat, you son of a bitch,"

Hold on, no need to curse at himself, it'll only make things worse, right? His lips quiver as he struggles to keep his breathing steady. He's not sure he has to worry but it's all he can do. It's Eridan, right? Eridan is fragile, Eridan is soft -

He's gotta rule out some things real quick before his think - uh, brain? chases his anxieties and leaps ahead:

  1. Eridan is not stupid enough to go and hurt himself in any way, regardless of whatever is going on
  2. Eridan would have let him know as soon as possible if something was bothering him enough for him to want to do something awful, especially if he thought he might hurt someone else (he hasn't been to that point yet, thank goodness)
  3. Eridan has been offline for long periods of time before, even if they weren't this long
  4. If there was an emergency, Karkat would have surely known about it through at least one source



Only, if the emergency was bad enough, he wouldn't know about it, because he'd be dead, and people can be dead in places other people don't know about. So, maybe Karkat is allowed to freak out a little bit. A teeny tiny bit. The worst part of it all, is that people only ask about Eridan through Karkat, because Karkat is the only one who knows what he's doing when Eridan actually feels like sharing.

Eridan isn't closed off to sharing, with him. Their relationship is weird. Complicated. They don't share a quadrant, no, and to any outsider, they don't even seem all that close, but Eridan has actually been a really great friend to Karkat. He's been there for him when his Moirail was too busy, he's given solid advice, he's allowed Karkat to talk his fucking face off, hell, Eridan might be the only person who actually actively enjoys listening to his shitty rants about romcoms and cheesy Hallmarks. But the most shocking thing of all?

Eridan asks for so little in return.

Every other friend wants him to lend an ear to their shit ass relationship garbage or their new garbage hobbies. They pester him for advice. They demand he comes over to hang out with them without any prior notice, no matter what he's doing. They barge into his house whenever the fuck they feel like it, because they can. They ask favors. They tell him to be their little messenger boy when they don't feel like talking things out with each other. He's a mediator. He's a host. He's their 'esteemed' guest at their shitty parties. He's their fucking consultant for all choices concerning the fucking Alternian government, even though he's said so many times that no, he doesn't want a part in all of this political bullshit right now, things are shaky for him as it is. He doesn't need any more on his plate, Feferi, fuck off - Anyway. He's shoved into every nook they can shove him into, as long as it's open. It's not like he wants to be a part of it, but they all think he's simply better at dealing with their bullshit than them, and so, he's subjected to all of this crap. As he's thinking, too, pacing in circles, his Trollian is being bombarded with text after text from his annoying, but lovely, friends.

The point is, Eridan hasn't asked anything of him at all, actually, since they settled down here on Earth. Not even a simple "Are you free right noww Kar?" and now that he thinks about it, it,

Really bothers him. Eridan used to practically beg for attention. And there's so many things he owes him for, like,

His current house. The caste system on Earth is similar enough to Alternia's that Karkat would have ended up living somewhere shitty, probably, if not for him. The highblooded trolls decided to help the lowbloods collectively, but Eridan took a particular interest in helping Karkat find his. He made sure everything was perfect, down to the way the sun shines through his window every morning; the angle, at what time, the intensity of the sun, etc. And then, even after all of that, he still made sure he had blackout curtains AND tinted ones! Tinted! Curtains! Just in case Karkat still wanted the warmth of the much-less-harsh Earth sunlight over not having it at all! Fuck! He fucking loves those curtains! His kitchen is perfect. His living room is perfect. He has such a beautiful view from his balcony that it almost pains him to look out on everything. He's got an HOA. He's got community benefits. His bed is as good as a bed can ever get for a troll, and yes, a bed. Only highbloods get recuperation pods (due to shipping costs,) and knowing this, Eridan made sure Karkat would at least be comfortable as he was having a day - night, mare. Right, they sleep at night now, when they do sleep. It makes things much better for everyone.

Then, after everything was done, he left to live in a community farther away from everyone else. He essentially fucked right off, and right out of Karkat's reach. Eridan lives four hours away. If, you drive. And Karkat doesn't drive. He's never had to, when everyone drives him wherever he wants to go.

He fucked right off, and right out of Karkat's reach, when all he's probably ever wanted happens to lie in his friends. What changed?

Right now, Karkat is the closest thing Eridan has to a friend, and there's no way he's got any quadrants, because they both talk about their quadrants with each other frequently and have come to the same conclusion: for their health and everyone else's, their quadrants are closed. With, of course, the exception of Karkat's pale quadrant, which is occupied by Gamzee. If it wasn't, though, he... he wouldn't mind Eridan filling it in. They don't interact often, but he's always there when he needs it, and he doesn't go away until Karkat tells him off. Unlike his other friends, too, Eridan understands days where Karkat doesn't have enough energy to deal with social things, and always tells him to take care of himself when he has to go right in the middle of a conversation.

There could be other reasons his trollian went offline. Maybe he was getting new internet installed?

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began pestering  terminallyCapricious [TC]

CG: HEY GAMZEE, I NEED SOMEONE TO TALK TO RIGHT NOW

TC: SoRrY bRo, I'm DeAlIn WiTh My MoThErFuCkIn MaTeSpRiT rIgHt NoW. TaVrOs Is HaViN aNoThEr MoThErFuCkIn AtTaCk

CG: OH. OKAY. I HOPE THINGS GET BETTER SOON, TELL HIM I SAID HI

TC: No MoThErFuCkIn PrObLeM, bRo. ThAnKs MoThErFuCkEr

CG: <>

TC: <>

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased pestering  terminallyCapricious [TC]

God, it happens every fucking time. Just like clockwork. It's not that Gamzee isn't a good moirail, because he's really shaped up over the years and he's s o much better than he used to be, he's just been busy with his own shit lately! And he totally gets it! But then Karkat is left to deal with everything by himself, too, and he's got so many things to think about right now -

Okay. That isn't working out for him, so here's a plan: He's gonna think for a little bit by himself, and then when his head clears up, he'll figure out what the fuck he's going to do.

AS IF HE CAN CLEAR HIS FUCKING HEAD.

There's Kanaya's moiraillegiance with Feferi that he has to deal with. Vriska's kismesissitude with Feferi. Sollux's matespritship with Feferi. Half of his problems are Feferi-centric, actually, but then there's also complicated red feelings between Tavros, Gamzee, AND Equius that wouldn't be too bad if Gamzee and Tavros weren't already together. There's their work shit. There's all the times he's stayed up late at night listening to their trauma that didn't have to do with the game, trauma that did have to do with the game. Sometimes it brings up his own trauma but does he talk about it? No. He knows how it feels. He knows people can't handle that much emotional baggage. Except for somehow, he's tricked himself into thinking he can handle all of that emotional baggage AND MORE! He carries emotional baggage for complete strangers sometimes! Every little thing seems to haunt him, and the pile only grows.

Today's addition is the unfortunate disappearance of Eridan, if he can even call it that. Can he? He doesn't know yet, because he doesn't know if he's actually disappeared, that's how little he knows. And it terrifies him.

That's, also on top of, Feferi's 23rd Earth birthday party in about a month, which means her 11th sweep is quickly approaching.

...

He's forgetting something.

"Alright, Karkat, please tell me you haven't been as much of a douche as you could have been," he grumbles, as he timidly approaches the calendar. Eridan's Earth day (January 29th, how could he ever forget that,) would have already passed, which would, coincidentally, also make him 23, and for some reason, it doesn't sit right with him.

He's definitely forgetting something, and lo and behold, Eridan's tenth sweep was about,

Oh,

Two years ago, if he's counting?

"FUCK."

Fuck indeed, for Karkat completely forgot to tell him happy 10th sweep, and now, his 11th, which, would probably land somewhere in April, if his math is right, is quickly approaching. Oh, Karkat, your douchebaggery knows no bounds.

The biggest kick in the pants?

Eridan actually totally sent him a gift for his 10th sweep. They would have been celebrating it together if everyone hadn't already planned something, too. God, everything hurts right now. His bloodpusher is screaming at him, pounding against his ribs for daring to be such a fucking idiot, for being the one person who should have known better, who should have done differently, and still failing to do so. No fucking wonder he's logged out of his pesterchum. Why would he want to talk to anyone? Karkat sure as hell knows no one else gave him the time of day on his 10th sweep, unless Gamzee did it because it was important to Karkat. It _was_ important to Karkat.

It obviously wasn't as much of a priority as Karkat wanted it to be.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began pestering  terminallyCapricious [TC]

CG: Hey, I need a ride to Eridan's when you get the time

He waits with bated breath for an answer, anything at all. Even a no is better than nothing. As his eyes wander the living room for the upteenth time, they catch on the garage.

He has, an incredibly stupid idea. But he's desperate.

CG: Actually, I'll get someone else to take me, don't worry about it. Good luck Gamzee <>

Time to motherfuckin buckle up, in the words of his dearest moirail. Because today?

It's leg day, bitch.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know that eight hits and three kudos was all it took for me to go, "fuck it, let's write another one today"? I churned the last chapter out at like, one in the morning. My hands were itching. They were scritching, to make this new chapter, even though I've only had seven hours of sleep in the past two days, because fuck, man, sometimes you have to McFuckin write, bro. My dudes. My chillest of palsies. I can't leave you hangin on one measly chapter, and I certainly couldn't live with myself if I didn't do something I wanted to because sleep got in my way. Next chapter is Eridan's view because sometimes spoilers are nice and good. I hope you enjoyed this chapter though, I tried to make it longer than the last one. Have a good day, my dudes.


	3. Nevada

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eridan goes on a long, long drive.

The long stretch of nothingness. Dry, and cold, yet not a single speck of snow lies on the cracked, barren earth. The tar of the road is bleached a light gray, weathered with light, and with time. Yellows, oranges, and reds bleed through the clouds, as the sun, dyed red with something, perhaps the blood of those left in the dust, begins to fall under the horizon. A wasteland where nothing is, and nothing ever has been. The desert soil is still. An eerie calm follows as he continues to drive down a forgotten road, to a forgotten place that might only ever show up at 4 am on a Thursday morning, with lights that flicker as if there is something there with him. Esoteric feelings course through him like static. There's always a small bit of adrenaline, of nervousness. It prickles. It fogs his head, too, stuffs it full of white noise and bright lights. He doesn't dare lay back in his seat, not here, not now. There's too much to see, too much to feel.

He absorbs everything, trying to decode the cryptic messages written upon the earth, the ones hidden deep within him.

The sunset makes his feelings swell like crashing waves upon a beach, ebbing, and flowing, pushing and pulling the sand. He's never really learned how to deal with these. Every time he tries, maybe to identify them, maybe to fix what little structure he has left of them, they melt away through the gaps in his fingers, only to come back to slither into his throat and lungs for him to choke on again. He hates them. They never really leave, instead stick to the insides of his organs and slick over his ribs, gunk up the spaces in his body cavity with thick, black, heavy emotion. Heavy thoughts. Thoughts made of steel cotton candy, weighed down with iron bars and chains, grating the inside of his skull. His eyes hurt. He catches a glimpse of them in the mirror; bright violet on yellow. Reddened, and puffy, and so, _so_ dry. His cheeks aren't in much better shape, the salty tear stains have dried in such a way that his skin almost breaks like the ground that rolls beneath the wheels of his car. Dust clings to the wet parts of his face, and he appears ashen, almost baked. Like rough clay. A muddy brown, on top of the ever-paling violet-gray of his skin, and with such, yellow eyes...

He's disgusting. Inside, and out, and even the puffiest parts of his cheeks are sunken in with pain and grief over things he shouldn't be grieving about. But he's working on himself, he promises.

These drives are so good for that. They really, really are.

His heart weeps, an offbeat melody played by a music box plucking at broken teeth, and the hollow cracks in the earth echo back, whisper stories of those who have passed along this road to the deepest parts of his being. Metal combs grate at the muscle underneath his skin until they cut away enough to make him feel piecless. He feels his pulse throb in his ears. Hears it. It's something he can't quite wrap his feelings around, because he's not quite sure he likes the sound, or the feeling. But a broken heart that beats is better than a heart run cold and empty. He's still singing. To him, it matters. That's enough.

Even if no one else cares, that's enough.

A glare from his mirror blinds him for a moment and his head shrieks with pain, a hand weakly reaches to adjust it. Things shouldn't have to hurt this much, he thought he was done hurting, that he had moved on from everything and realized it was his fault, after all. His therapist certainly isn't doing a good job of convincing him he's actually right, but that's not why he hired his therapist. He hired his therapist to help fix him, and that's what they're gonna do together, even if it means they disagree on things.

He needs to not think about it. That's, why he went on this drive, right? To get his mind off things, to grind his thoughts into the asphalt and let the light wash away his tears. A long stretch from Washington to Georgia, and then back again. His favorite stretch of land, as it is, minus the east coast, but he'll get to that another time, when he's not homesick. He's on his way home. He's almost there, and then maybe he can let himself think about all the things he regrets. It's loathing, too, but all loathing is coated in layers upon layers of what could have been, everything he could have done, everything he didn't, _have,_ to do, or. _Shouldn't,_ have done. Everything he wishes he could give. All of the things he could ever hope to take back.

The sun leaves him to drive alone in the dark expanse of Nevada, content with unraveling its only companion. The darkness can be terrifying, but tonight, it soothes him. The unique bite of charred dirt and frigid winter air burns his lungs, nips at his skin. With his headlights only being able to illuminate so far in front of him, he drives. He drives into the nothingness. Drives into a world lost to a liminal rift in space, over a threshold of eyes that were never there, that never existed. A tiny leaf, swallowed by an ocean of empty black. He is alone. Always, in Nevada, he is alone.

And yet, he feels he is being watched. Always, he is being watched. Whether it be the hidden eyes of a creature ready to swallow him whole the moment he blinks, or the eyes that follow behind him from the past to burn holes in his skin.

He drives into the abyss, and further, still, until he reaches a small building made of concrete. An aluminum roof that never rusts barely sits on top, and the one light in front of the door always flickers. He's tried, really, to fix it, but no matter how many lightbulbs he puts in, no matter how many wires he replaces, it refuses to shine strong. The door is not there. Something must have taken it with them.

Carefully, now, as to not wake whatever is lurking, he steps in and curls into the corner of the shed as deep and as empty as the rest of the unknown, leaving himself at the mercy of whatever might come to take him into the night.

* * *

Nevada, while a hellscape of illusions and looming dread, passed him by two days ago. Ten more minutes, just a drive up this mountain, and he'll be back home.

The air smells of wet soil and plant matter, crackles with static. A smooth gray, steel blue in nature, blankets the sky, breathes melancholy into his veins, his chest. The rain. God, he loves the rain. It makes him feel... alive. Not like he's barely surviving, or clinging to the last shred of hope he's managed to find in his heart. It makes him feel like he's living. Really living, like he has people to talk to and places to be and the only thing that's holding him back is the freezing sheet of water that glazes his stairs.

People to talk to. Friends. That's what burns his bloodpusher in all the worst ways to think about. He feels like he can do nothing to make everything up to them and yet, he yearns for reconciliation, or at least some sort of closure. Something. Anything but the ongoing wondering about whether or not he has anyone left. Those who hold contact with him despise him, they'd rather eat a bag of garbage than talk to him. And who could blame them? All he's ever done for anyone is fuck things up royally, in the most stuck up and irrational fashion possible. He can't take pride in being himself anymore. Not now, not ever, no matter how he improves. Why he improves. Growing as a person, though it's something he can do now, won't change what's already too late to change, and the best it can do is put a tiny little circle bandaid over the gaping wound he's left everyone. Those who hold contact with him, are incredibly gracious. Sollux and Vriska shouldn't even have to bother with his shit and yet they do, on their own accord, even if it's to kick the dirt in his face. It's what he deserves, but it gets hard to deal with sometimes. He tries to take it as constructive criticism, though he's nothing like who he used to be - at least, he thinks so.

If he was anything like he used to be, he doesn't think he'd have lived to see the morning.

Like he'd even deserve to.

He pulls into the garage, opens the trunk to grab his bags of groceries. He's been gone for so long, and he had to clear out his fridge before he left, or things would have become absolutely filthy, and he can't ever have that. It's time to restock, just like it's time for him to move on and start anew. Get away from all that used to be. Thrive.

It's lonely here by himself. He thought about getting a cat, but he found out he was allergic. He also thought about getting a dog, which he found he likes more than cats anyway, but with all of the time he spends out of the house (and out of state,) he'd never be able to give it the love it would need and deserve. Dogs deserve all the love. Every single bit of it, because they have so much love to give out, and all they ask for in return is to be cared for and loved back. It would be good for him to get a companion, but to do that, he'd have to change his lifestyle a little bit. He'll see what he can do about cutting down road trips. He did plan to change things, after all.

He struggles with all the bags, being as weak as he is, but he manages to get them all in after a few trips. He grabbed as many as he could, but he's not as big as he'd thought he'd turn out to be - if he has some growing to do, that'd shock the shit out of him, because he hasn't grown an inch since he was fifteen - so his handful on either side amounts to five plastic bags, three paper ones, or two cloth bags. Eridan shops with paper or cloth. Fuck plastic bags. Fuck them to hell, with how thin and surprisingly durable they are, when stuck, how hard it is to pull them out of small spaces, how hard it is to get them out of his gills -

Anyway. He shops with paper or cloth, but he has a lot of plastic bag projects; he collects bags from places they really shouldn't be. Beaches, forests, lakes, rivers, national parks, the works. Even public places and roads. So far he's managed to make literal clothing out of the plastic, but with his, _aversion,_ to it, he can never bring himself to wear it. He sells it instead. Much better for someone else to use that shit than have it lying around in his house for longer than it should be. He's also got lots of glass shards that he tumbles into sea glass and either makes stuff with, or sells as is. Better to have someone admire it than let it stab into someone's foot. Can you imagine the blood? Some poor soul having to go through that pain, and then some poor shark being tricked into thinking there was food nearby, and inevitably being killed because it nibbled at someone. Fuck, man, that's a shitty way to go. Sea creatures should only be dying if they're gonna become some other creature's food, because that's life. Things gotta eat.

Eridan, too, has to eat, so after he's done putting away groceries, he pulls out his takeout sushi from the container and places it on his bath tray. He feels like he's allowed some time to relax, after all of the exhausting hours of driving and emotional and mental shit he's had to comb through. A cup of tea, a nice book, and a few sweets later, and he's off to get the water running and bubbly.

It helps to ease his sore muscles and joints. He didn't know people didn't, normally feel like this, and when the very confused but highly professional earth doctor told him about all the shit he had, he laughed. But then the alternian doctor told him the same thing, so maybe humans and trolls aren't too different from each other. He works with it. He has so many things to deal with already that as long as he's up and walking that day he's doing as much as he can to be productive and enjoy himself. He loves his doctors (not in a creepy way,) they do more for him than anyone else.

Except for, Karkat.

Oh, Karkat. Goddamnit, he almost forgot about him, but everything circles back to him, doesn't it? He tries so hard to keep his distance but every time he sees him on Trollian his stomach flutters in all the weirdest ways. Karkat has the ability to calm him down from any bullshit that might be currently happening to him by doing literally anything. Anything at all. Even when he's there to talk to him about something serious or solemn, Eridan can't help but feel... well. He can't help but feel. Feel, warm. Feel better. Eridan is up to anything after he talks to Karkat, because he makes him feel needed. Important. He has a small role in his life, but god, it's everything he doesn't deserve. And it's selfish of him to crave his attention as much as he does, so he's held off on initiating any contact himself, though his therapist isn't happy about it. They claim that it's okay to reach for friends and that it's probably actually better for him and their relationship as a whole, but Karkat isn't a friend. Karkat doesn't have a relationship with him. Karkat swoops in to save him from his miserable, isolated existence out of nowhere, and leaves as fast as he came, and then he hears nothing from him for at least a week. And right now, he's perfectly happy with that.

...

No, he's, not. He's never happy with anything. He's teaching himself to be happier, to appreciate what he has and to stop worrying about what he doesn't. He, unfortunately, is no prospit dreamer, and he will probably continue to latch onto every single existing complication in his life, no matter how small, and bash his head into it multiple times a day. Eridan wishes he could have more time with Karkat. Everyone wishes they could have more time with Karkat. Eridan doesn't deserve that time with Karkat, which keeps him from asking for his company. He'll get it when Karkat feels like giving it to him, and that's what he's going to have to take.

He's getting over it, he promises, he's just not great at getting over feelings.

As if he deserves those feelings in the first place.

He's not about to open that can of wriggling slime, so he pushes all of that to the back of his mind and immerses himself in his book. It's a shitty book, but it's something. He can complain about it later.

He gets out of the tub and pulls on the comfiest pajamas he has. Maybe he'll light a candle? Yes. Just for the smell. It's not too late at night but it _is_ winter, and at this point, it's been dark for hours, and he's freezing his ass off, and all he's wanted to do is curl up in his blankets with a very particular book ever since he left on his road trip. With a few adjustments to his thermostat, and a book swap, he slips underneath his sheets and flips to where he left off.

This particular journal is about pillaging, which he doesn't mind all too much, though he prefers something else. Some conflict, maybe. He has journals about his encounters with Mindfang, or meetings with The Condescension, but he doesn't want those either. He thought he'd grabbed a different journal than this? He can't have lost track of his favorite one...

He decides to read this one for a while anyway, and then he'll go looking.

Hours into his read, a noise like metal hitting concrete comes from outside the window facing the front of the house, and a particularly vulgar screech follows. He listens again. Nothing. Maybe it's one of those kids from the neighborhood thirteen minutes away? He can't tell from just peering through his window...

Looks like he's going outside to find out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eridan needs a fucking hug.


	4. Holy Jesus Fuck, My Legs Are Burning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karkat's leg day is going to do wonders for his thighs.

Yeah, this was such a stupid idea, it was almost hilarious.

Almost.

Every raindrop sends searing pain through Karkat's body, leaving no mercy for his poor, shot-out nervous system and ever-worsening muscles. Damp clothing clings to his skin, weighs him down and steals the breath from him like the wheels of a steamroller. His heart rate hasn't gone down since this morning, before he left. In fact, he'd say his bloodpusher has had quite the time of its life beating away; it's so fast he can barely feel it. All he feels is a constant, agonizing thrum that threatens to burst every vein in his body and have him bleed out on the concrete. Lungs burning with every heave of air. Ribs screeching with every rise and fall of his chest. His fingers? Probably crushed or something, he doesn't know. He put his hands out to catch the fall, and while it didn't work as well as he'd hoped, maybe he avoided smashing every single bone he's ever had. Because people grow bones. That's a thing they do. It's not like bones fuse together, no! Karkat gains plenty of new bones every year! Because Alternians! God, what a stupid fucking joke.

He couldn't take the main road because, well, cars. So he took a little side route that would have taken five hours, normally, and even with his shitty luck, it was paved, thank god. There was a shit ton of ice and turning was a fucking nightmare. A fucking nightmare! It's even icier up these stupid fucking mountains, and he swears, he almost plummeted off twice. He left at around 10 am (shut up he doesn't need the fucking sleep okay? And all of his friends were up doing things while he was watching Netflix anyway,) and it's, 9:30 right now? Yeah. Okay. Close to a full 12 hours of exercise. He might not have to do another leg day ever again! Because he totally did them before. Right. Working out is common nature for Karkat, he hits the gym every single fucking day to lift those reps and get those weights in.

He could go for a gatorade or two right now.

As he's cursing at his limbs and pleading with whatever god might be out there to help him up, he hears a soft creak.

"Um, hello? If you're one a'those kids from dowwn in'th'vvalley y'really shouldn't be out at this time'a night. Do'ya need me t'call your pa-"

That's a beautiful sound that is. Karkat can't see much of anything right now, given how dark it is, but his silhouette illuminated by the light that pours from behind it is enough to soothe his anxieties. For now, at least. Let's see if he can give a 'fellow greeting' before Eridan culls his ass.

"Er-" A few sharp coughs in succession, and then a _WHEEEEEZE,_ " _*Huff*,_ Er, ridan, what's-"

_**"KAR!?!?!"** _

"Iuh, yeah" "It's, it's me I'm-"

"WWHAT IN TH'EVVER-LOVVIN' FUCK ARE Y'DOIN' ALL TH'WWAY UP HERE IN THE SELKIRK MOUNTAINS - THE FUCKIN' _SPOKANE_ AREA, MIGHT I ADD - FROM _MAPLE VVALLEY_ _,_ IN THE MIDDLE A' _WWINTER_ , DURIN' A _THUNDERSTORM,_ ON A FLIMSY-ASS HOLLOWED OUT TOOTHPICK OF A _METAL_ _BIKE_ _???_ "

Okay, let's fuck that plan to hell, then, Eridan. It's not like he has anything to say to him, because if he did, he would have said it through Trollian oh wAIT ERIDAN WOULDN'T HAVE SEEN ANYWAY ISN'T THAT JUST FUCKING DANDY MAYBE THERE'S A _REASON_ HE FUCKING PEDALED HIS SORRY ASS THE FUCK OVER, E R I D A N . God, why is it so hard to talk? Everything burns, everything _burns,_ can they do this later, Eridan, when he's not a useless pile of flesh?

"Yeah that's-"

"GET IN MY HOUSE, KAR"

"Oka-"

A bolt of lightning strikes the very top of Eridan's house, illuminating everything within miles of it and sending crackles of energy through the damp air. It gives Karkat just enough time to see Eridan's face contorted into one of the worst expressions he's ever seen on him. Absolutely horror-struck, eyes wide, pupils barely a pinprick. His head whips upward, probably to check to see if anything is wrong, and then it snaps right back to Karkat. Is he hoping it didn't strike him? Because he's fucking counting his lucky stars. The sound is deafening, literally, it's so loud his ears blow out and they sit there ringing as everything goes black again, and then within a few seconds, it starts to return to him. His silhouette is gone from the door, but where...?

Oh. Here. He hears his feet crunching the frosted grass next to him, though he's still on the driveway.

"Holy fuck that was terrifying. Does it always do that? How do you even stand outside in this shit ass weather?"

"Howw the hell do you fuckin' bike in this wweather you fuckin' degenerate wwhat kinda question - 'howw do you evven stand outside in this shit ass wweather?' motherfucker you'vve been out for god knowws how long - I don't havve time for my owwn shit. You're lucky that wwasn't you!"

"Hey, hey, calm do-"

"I havve evvery right t'be wworried about your reckless ass, Kar."

"Yeah.. yeah, okay."

Karkat, yet again, attempts to get up, but he shrieks as the pain turns from searing to scalding. It nearly knocks him out, and he can't help but fall limp.

"Oh, _god_ Kar, do y'need some help up? Can you evven movve???"

"I can mo, ve, I've-"

Another shriek, he feels two arms wrap around him, feels his weight press down on them as he's lifted, all of the spasms in his muscles as he's pressed against his chest. His breathing falters - Holy shit, he's so cold. He's colder than the outside, than the frigid air of winter, maybe like being pressed to an arctic glacier with no clothes on. Probably not that bad, but he's wet, and being wet means the cold seeps heat from your body faster, and while he was already shivering before, he's trembling more violently, now. On one hand, it's soothing - the cold helps the soreness in his muscles. Only for a moment, of course, because he has to cling to consciousness as the pain once again has him on the brink of sleep, or worse.

And then another bolt of lightning, hitting the same place, startles him enough to where he scrambles and screams to get to somewhere, and he would have fallen, had Eridan not been holding him so tight.

“PUT ME DOWN!!! PUT ME _DOWN!!!_ "

"Shh, Kar, don't wworry, I'vve got it."

Eridan is already walking towards the house, and it's not like he wants to do the walking himself. Is it, really so bad to let him do this for him?

"... Fine."

He decides to shut his eyes for just a little bit as he walks. Attempt to settle, at least.

"Keep your eyes open Kar, if you fall asleep an' you havve a concussion or somethin' it'd be real bad."

"I want some fucking rest goddamnit!"

"You can havve some in a feww hours okay? I need t'be able t'wwatch you though."

"Great. Because I'm a fucking grub who shits his pants all the time and can't even be bothered to yell for someone to clean it up."

"It's not like that Kar!"

"I know, I know."

Eridan jostles with the handle as he struggles to keep a good grip on Karkat and open the door, but once he's got it, he steps in carefully. It's so much warmer in here than outside, and it's quite the contrast to the literal polar freeze of Eridan. He can't see much with the way he's being held. Eridan puts him down, though, gently, and slowly, eases him onto the couch, and then disappears for a moment.

Karkat takes a long pause to breathe before deciding to look around from his spot. He thought Eridan might be cluttered, or some type of hoarder. This is simply not the case - everything is tastefully arranged, weapons are sparse, too, though when they are there, they tend to be the centerpiece, up on a wall rack or something. He thought he'd lost Ahab's Crosshair? Or that maybe, Cronus had it, seeing as it's his in the first place. The room is clean. Cozy. Everything looks modern that isn't a wall map, or some ancient Alternian shit. Books are put away in their shelves. The air is clear of dust. He's even managed to keep it to a similar color scheme - Black furniture against dark violet walls, with white and light yellow accents. An Aquarian banner is hung on either side of the fireplace, underneath the TV mantle, and boy is that a fucking massive TV. Who the hell even needs a TV that big? Obviously this dipshit.

Before he can get too comfortable, Eridan comes back in to poke and prod at him, turn him over, lift his limbs, squeeze at him, etc.

"What are you doing?"

"Look at you. You're all soaked through, Kar, god, howw long havve y'been out there?"

There's so much concern in his voice, it almost breaks his heart.

"Well I, not for too long-"

He ducks behind the couch? It's apparent why, though, as he comes back up with a few blankets hanging on his arm. He takes one and drapes it over Karkat, then tucks it in and wraps him in another one, and then another. He can do this himself! Why is he being babied?

"What, in the hell are you doing?"

"Makin' sure you're not gonna die."

"I'm gonna be fine, I came here to-"

Eridan shoots him a glare, eyes swimming with anger and worry, though, doesn't quite look him in the eye. Or anywhere near his face, for that matter. "You shouldn't'a come here at all, Kar, 'specially not like this! Wwhere the hell did y'evven get an idea like that??? Bikin' ovver 270 miles just ta make your wway here. And t'me! Me a'all people y'coulda been destroyin' your ass for. God, I bet it hurts like a motherfucker. I'd check on you further but I don't think I need'ta go that far seein' as it's just humiliatin' at that point. I mean you're still cognitivve. You're not losin' consciousness, are you, Kar?"

"Nice of you to cut me off in the middle of my sentence, as you've done multiple times already. Great impression. No, I told you I was fine. Can you hear me out?"

Well now he seems hurt, too. Great. "Kar, neither a'us havve time for you t'explain anythin' if you plan on goin' back home t'night."

"W, Wait-"

He starts to pace. Looks at the ground, Karkat can see his face shift as he grows more worried. That's not what he wanted, that's, _not_ what he wanted, "Only howw can I trust y't'go home an' not hurt yourself Kar? Wwhat if you're already real hurt and there's no one there t'do nothin' wwhen things get wworse? Fuck, Kar, did'y'evven think a'all the utter shit that coulda come outta your shitty idea? You coulda broken bones, or slipped and fell an' been made int' jelly in a ditch somewwhere, or your wwheel coulda wwent out on the road and you coulda ended up all mushy an' shredded like some slimy wweek-old mozzarella cheese. Wwhat if y'end up gettin' a cold? Or a concussion? Jesus wwhat the hell wwould I evven do if y'got hypothermia?" He's biting at his nails, scratching at his cheek. His eyes become glossy. His cheeks become violet and puffy, as a human's might become red. He's ranting. He'll go even further, rile himself up more, and with the panic Karkat can feel from him, Eridan won't easily be pulled from a panic attack, should it start.

"Eridan I-"

"The nearest hospital is thirty minutes awway an' the wwait times are atrocious an' wwhat if it'd be too late by-"

"Eridan please!"

He pauses. It's enough to snap him out of whatever trance he was in, but not enough to calm him. His eyes brush over Karkat's hair. Karkat, doesn't like the avoidance, but, he can't exactly blame him for it, and anything is better than nothing, with him.

"I fucking made it, didn't I? I'm not some fragile piece-of-shit wriggler with soft bones, I can handle it."

A sigh, a long, drawn-out sigh of exhaustion. "I'm, just glad you're safe Kar."

"There we go."

"Sorry t'run awway wwith my thoughts there, I, I'm just wworried is all."

"I know."

He knows, because he's crying. His tears are so big and full, and they gush down his cheeks and streak such beautiful colors across his skin. He hasn't seen them but once before. Eridan has a hard time with his feelings, he does, and that's why he's appreciative of Eridan being emotionally vulnerable with him. Eridan hates vulnerability. Karkat feels special, lucky, getting to see this from him, even if it pains his heart so.

"You're gonna havve'ta givve me a minute or twwo before I'm calm enough t'really be any use Kar."

"I, It's okay, Eridan, go ahead and take your time."

He nods his head, stands, anxiously. Filled with nerves, wanting to say something. He disappears into the kitchen, instead, before he gets the chance to do it. Karkat sighs, allows himself to breathe normally again. These, these blankets smell good. Like some sort of citrus, or maybe pineapple, with some apples and coconut, and maybe a floral note? With, an unknown scent, but he has a feeling that's the whole troll part of it. He'd say something, but it's probably not the detergent he uses. These are worn, though clean. They might not have been washed in a while.

The thought of Eridan smelling like this makes him feel warm, though he's still shivering and aching.

"Maybe you wwanna be back ovver in your owwn bed t'night but, I don't think wwe'll get you home in time Kar an' I don't really havve the energy t'drive you home as it is, so. I, mean I knoww my house isn't exactly ideal Kar but if you don't mind bein' here a little longer than you'd like t'be you could at least be in bed before midnight?"

"Thank fuck, because there's no way in hell I wanna move from this spot on the couch."

A chuckle. Good, that's good. He's happy he can still find reason to chuckle at this.

"Howw are y'feelin'?" Eridan returns and places something on the side table that he can't see. Goddamnit, he's curious, but when he moves to look, he groans and flops back down.

"I'm, well I'm, not really up for moving, but I feel better after being able to lay down and fucking breathe for a while."

"Good, good. An' uh, your pain, Kar?"

Because he knows he means other types of feelings, because otherwise Karkat would be complaining. Stupid observant shit. Or maybe Karkat's that transparent. "It's fine."

"No it's not."

"Yes it is."

"No, it's not."

"Yes it is."

"Don't lie t'me Kar, y'already told me it hurt real bad, an' evven if y'didn't, 1. You're a terrible liar, 2. Y'couldn't evven manage to get up on your knees, an' 3. Y'put a dent in my drivvewway."

"I put a dent in your driveway?"

"Yeah but I don't really givve much a'a shit. Howw bad does it hurt Kar?"

"I'm not in any pain."

Another sigh, this one exasperated. "Y'knoww, Kar, I really care about you an' I wwant nothin' but good things for you, but you'vve forced my hand."

Eridan places his hand underneath Karkat's calf, wraps his fingers around it, and squeezes softly as he lifts it up.

"OWOWOW _FUCK_ STOPSTOPSTOP-"

He gently lowers it, after all, he doesn't mean to hurt him. "Sorry, sorry. Are y'wwillin' t'talk about it noww?"

"Not really, no! I'm even less willing to talk about it!"

"Fair."

A grumble, and then a sharp huff as Karkat puffs his cheeks. "... But, um, it feels like everything is burning. Not in a good way, obviously, and I think I might have popped a few blood vessels and pulled some muscles? I probably tore something. And It feels like I've been laying on top of a pile of my textbooks for weeks, or needles, or maybe even some knives coated in like, hydrogen peroxide, or salt and lemon juice - no. No I've got the perfect description. You know when Horrus had that fucking god-awful robot horse body?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"It feels like he peeled my skin with a potato peeler and then soaked me in some filthy mixture of piss and horse shit, and then he stomped the fucking life out of me with his steel-reinforced anvil-hooves and turned me into a bag of ground meat and bone splinters, but not before stiffening all of my muscles up so tight I couldn't even lift a finger without severely breaking a bone or some shit like that."

"E, Ewwww. That's awwful descriptivve of you Kar, but, that sounds terrible."

"Yeah it fucking hurts."

Eridan ruffles Karkat's hair a bit, which feels pretty nice, all things considered. "I'll grab y'some Alevve 'cause Advvil doesn't do shit for pain like this. You don't movve a damn millimeter from your spot y'hear me?"

"Wasn't planning on it."

Karkat is left smiling when Eridan leaves again for the kitchen, and thank god Eridan isn't in the room to see it. He doesn't like to smile in front of his friends, and usually he doesn't. Today, he can't help it.

Though it gets awkward after a bit, as he hears metal clanking and shuffling about that doesn't match up with what he's supposed to be doing, and what else would he be doing, anyway? And then he goes upstairs? And then he's up there for a bit, and then he's back downstairs again, busy as he's ever been. With how things look, he supposes Eridan must be out of the house often, but for what? Does he have a job? He technically doesn't need to work, and Eridan hasn't mentioned a job, but he hasn't mentioned a lot of things. Karkat wants to know. He wants to know what the hell he's doing with his life, he feels so out of loop with Eridan, all the while everyone else chucks their shit at him and shoves him underneath a pool of massive-ass stank-ass life garbage that he's either tired of or already heard before.

"... So. Um, Eridan."

"Wwe'll chat later."

"Okay."

More noises. More being busy. More of Karkat, awkwardly sitting on his couch while freezing his fucking ass off.

"God it's so fucking cold in here."

"My thermostat is set t'seventy degrees."

"Well I'm cold."

"I'm sorry Kar but I can't do much about that right noww okay? I'm focused on somethin' else. Maybe if y'hadn't'a-"

"Not right now."

"R, right, right. Sorry Kar."

"It's fine, I get it."

Even longer, and now, he's getting impatient.

"What the hell is taking you so long?"

"You're gonna havve'ta givve me a minute Kar I'm not done."

"How fucking long does it take to get a damn pill from a fucking bottle?"

"You're takin' twwo not one. An' y'knoww wwhat? Maybe it's harder than y'think it is, Kar. Givve a guy a break."

hA. Harder, is he just complaining about having to take care of him, now? "Oh sure it is. Squeezing the lid takes so much fucking effort your weak ass baby hands are going to shatter and your eyeballs are going to pop out of their sockets. Are you so fucking pathetic that you can't even open a lock on a bottle of pills made for fucking grubs? Grubs don't even have hands."

"Sometimes it takes me a bit t'open my meds in the mornin' so wwill you kindly shut the fuck up an' let me open this?"

"Wait, you do?"

"Yeah."

... Hm.

"Like for real though."

"Y, yeah?"

"That's, really sad."

So Karkat's being an insensitive prick, then. Great. Fucking _Dandy._

"Don't you tell me wwhat's sad an' not sad about me. Evverythin' is sad about me. I'm a pathetic piece'a shit."

Absolutely not how dare he? How dare he in his own house, "I, don't agree with that but I'm gonna let that go for now, because I don't have the energy to sit here and talk to you about that kind of talk right now."

"It wwas a joke, Kar. But I'm real sorry I'm stressin' y'out a little bit."

He sighs. There's been so many sighs tonight it feels so fucking redundant to do it again, but it helps him release some tension he's been holding for the past ten minutes. "It's okay. I've been pretty wound up lately."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Finally, _finally,_ he walks back over, places yet another thing on the side table.

"Wwell, maybe y'can tell me all about that wwhen you get outta your bath."

"Ex, cuse me?"

"Wwell I thought it might be nice for y'to soak in some nice hot wwater-"

"What the fuck Eridan! I'm not taking a fucking bath! That shit is for bloodsucking wrigglers who don't know how to use a damn shower!" He growls a little bit as he says it, not that he's being hostile. But what does he take him for? Some sort of pansy? It's not emasculating to take a bath and he's certainly not one to care about his shitty masculinity but for Eridan to be telling him he should take a bath? What in the fuck, dude. He had no idea anything remotely that - well it feels privileged for some reason! He doesn't know why! Like some fucking rich snob telling him it'd be great for him to go on a fucking two week vacation just because he's been on one before. Maybe it's a little less privileged than Sollux.

Still.

"It's not t'get clean, Kar, it's for your muscles an' shit! It'll wwarm y'up real good and probably soothe the pain enough for y'to at least sit comfortably in bed t'night."

"Oh god, we're not sleeping together."

"KAR! I havve a guest bed, an' evven if you wwere sleepin' in mine, I wwoulda taken the couch, dumbass. I knoww I'm not really the ideal companion for much'a anythin' at all an' I'm not subjectin' you t'that seein' as that wwould be real shitty a'me. That an' you probably need a bed more than I do anywway."

Of course, of course. He's always got something prepared for every fucking occasion, being overly paranoid. "We're not going to argue about who needs to sleep in a fucking bed more. I'm not taking a bath."

"Kar, it's already runnin'. It's got epsom salt an' evverythin'."

"What the fuck is epsom salt?!?!"

"It's - JUST TAKE THE FUCKIN' BATH KAR."

"Okay, okay, okay! Jesus fucking christ dude, calm the fuck down."

He frowns a little harder, but with the next breath it's gone. He's just as tense as Karkat is, isn't he?

"Sorry."

"It's fine."

Karkat figures, okay, since things aren't hurting that bad right now, he can do this! He can move! He moves too fast and too excitedly, because wow, that really feels like he's pulled something there and now it feels like he's pulled something _there_ and _there_ and also right there. And there also. And why is he being fucking pulverized like some slab of raw meat?

"AHFU C K ! ! !"

"Do you...?"

"Do I what, Prince Dipshit?"

"Do you need me t'carry you up there, Kar?"

"No, I'm not going to let you carry me up a single flight of stairs no matter how bad my dysfunctional muscles want to fucking kill me, and I'd rather die than let you touch me right now, not because I hate your touch specifically or anything like that, but because everything hurts so fUCKING BAD that any added pressure will most likely send my bloodpusher into cardiac arrest, and actually end my life. So I'm gonna to walk up there, no matter how slowly I have to do it, and I'm gonna walk up there alone."

"If that's wwhat y'wwant Kar."

"That's exactly what I want right now."

Eridan mutters something under his breath. While this most definitely enrages Karkat, he knows he'd never say anything behind anyone's back, and instead be very upfront with him if he were to have a problem with him, as evident with other dialogue pieces in this encounter. So he lets it slide.

"Are y'gonna go right noww or are y'gonna wwait a bit until you'vve finished up your tea?"

"You have tea?"

"Right here, Kar."

He hands him a cup of now pleasantly warm tea, that smells just as good as his blankets do, though it's a different smell. He also hands him the pills he promised, which are an interesting but also pleasant blue color. They won't taste as pleasant as they look.

"Oh, uh, thanks."

He nods. Disappears again. What in the fuck is he doing in there? Karkat swallows his pills and chases them down with at least half of the tea, and he's surprised to find no shitty pill aftertaste. Instead it's a nice and nutty chai, he thinks? Accompanied by a creamy finish. He doesn't know why he's classifying these tastes and feelings. He knows jack shit about tea, even though his cupboard is filled with box after box of the stuff. Most of it is Lipton. He hates Lipton, but it's fast.

"This is really good," Karkat hums, as he sips again. He doesn't feel like being an overly aggressive shit about things today, apparently.

"I, uh, I really like that blend a'tea, y'can only get it from a small little tea shop dowwn in Cali an' I havven't found a duplicate yet."

"This shit is from California? Do they ship?"

"No?" And why the hell did he ask, anyway? They're both as confused as the other.

"How the hell did you get it all the way up here?"

"Don't wworry about it right noww, Kar."

So he doesn't, because his energy is focused on other things, like, drinking the tea. Because it's good. And also, another thought.

"... Do you have any gatorade?"

"What flavvor?"

"That teal color that's supposed to be like a tropical thunderstorm or some shit like that I don't know what the fucking flavor is but it's teal gatorade."

He's right back out with the biggest bottle he's ever seen of the stuff. Seriously, it's like a fucking quart of the most refreshing flavor of gatorade there's ever been, right in front of him, for him, just because he's here and he asked for it. He bets his damn ass he won't be able to find this shit in stores but he could be fucking wrong as hell.

"Thank you."

"No prob."

He tosses down some, books, too? With his other hand.

"Pick a novvel."

Karkat's eyes roam the covers for a while, picking up the titles, the covers, the authors.

"You read romance?"

"No I don't but I havve them lyin' around anywway and I mean wwhen you'vve got as much time t'kill as I do, wwhy not givve it a shot?"

"Any, particular one you like?"

"I'm not givvin' you any a'my opinions on these seein' as I'm not fond a'romance."

Oh, so he's read them, but he doesn't want to admit he likes any. It's cool, it's great. "Fine. Why am I picking one again?"

"Gotta havve somethin' t'read in the bath. I mean, unless you'd rather stare at th'wwall?"

"I'll take this one."

"Great."

He takes the book back and leaves up the stairs with it. So that's what he was doing up there. Setting up his fucking bath for him, like some fucking nursing graduate, or a mother grub. He doesn't need anyone to set up his fucking bath for him! Partially because he doesn't take baths, because he takes showers instead, and he would have never thought you could actually take a bath for the purpose of relaxing. Of course Eridan would know all about that shit, though.

After a while of sitting there and listening to even more noises in the kitchen, he's had it with not doing things. He's also had it with awkward conversation, and until he can think of something actually constructive to talk about, he's gonna go fucking do it.

He's gonna take a fucking bath.

His limbs scream **NO** but his brain screams **SHUT THE FUCK UP I DO WHAT I FUCKING WANT TO YOU PRICKS,** and so he's able to keep on his feet and walk on his own. After all of the biking he did, though, he's surprised he's not asleep.

"You goin' up there right noww?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, don't trip please, go sloww if y'havve to."

As if he'd - alright so that was a close call, but it's only because Eridan jinxed the shit out of him okay? He's completely coordinated right now. "If I fall and hit my head or some shit like that I'll scream at you to help okay?"

"Okay Kar. Enjoy your bath."

"Yeah whatever."

It takes forever to get up the fucking stairs. There's not even that many of them but holy hell, it hurts. It hurts so bad. He'd also be confused as to what room the bath is in, too, once he got up there, but Eridan conveniently left it open for him. He can already smell it from over here, and god, it's got part of that blanket smell in it. God fucking damnit. Shit. Fuck. Now it's all he can think about, even as he decides to destroy his legs walking over there.

He's gonna kick Eridan's ass.

Fucking privileged piece of shit and his fucking decked out bathroom. Who decks out their fucking bathroom?! Everything is either black marble, smoky quartz, amethyst, or silver. The tub? A fucking massive chunk of polished and carved amethyst. His head hurts too much to look at all of the intricacies of it but it's probably a fucking masterpiece, with the way they got the silver to accent it. Amethyst sink. Quartz faucet. Quartz flooring. Maybe it's not an expensive stone but for someone to have this much of it in one place? Yeah. No. He probably vomits money out of his gobsmacker every morning. The bath water is a light pink and smells like he brought heaven to the ground just so he could give part of it to Karkat. The fucker.

"Holy shit Ampora, fuck you and your fucking loaded ass. Who the hell needs a fucking tub like this anyway."

There's a clean towel and robe for him when he gets out of the bath sitting on the counter, and a bath tray set up for him. Insult to injury. A very caring insult, but an insult nonetheless. He strips down and gets the fuck in. He gets the fuck in. He's not dwelling on this shit any longer or the chapter is never going to end.

The water begins to work at his muscles instantly, and he melts into the bath only to find there's a fucking pillowy surface lining the tub for him to sit on. And it's lovely. And he's cursing himself in his head for so many reasons, but mainly because he still hasn't gotten to why he's come here yet.

"Ffffuck, this is really nice... Maybe _I_ could use a tub like this..."

After the bath. He's determined.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried to make this chapter a whole shit ton longer because I like writing long things and I figure the more shit you have in your possession to read, the happier you are, as long as it's good shit, and if my shit isn't good shit, I mean, why are you reading it anyway? You don't have to read it. I hope you enjoyed it though cause I enjoyed writing it a lot, Karkat and Eridan's awkward banter is what I fucking live for okay?


	5. Oh, Those Pesky Gut Feelings :) What Can You Do?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (:

Is he out of detergent? No, he got some today, didn't he? Where the hell did he put it...? 

Eridan half-grumbles as he tosses Karkat's sopping wet clothes into the wash. He was gracious enough to leave them outside the bathroom door for him so that Eridan didn't have to awkwardly ask him for them while Karkat was buck-ass-naked in the tub. What kind of interaction would that have been? 'Oh Karkat I forgot t'ask you for your clothes can you maybe hand em' ovver wwhen you're done or somethin'-' 'Hold on fuckass let me fucking get them' 'No Kar goddamnit you're supposed t'be bathin'-' And then he probably would have flung open the door without a shred of shame and chucked them at his face. It's not that he would be bothered by the sight, but...

He won't think too hard about it right now, because he'll get distracted and then neither of them will have any clean clothes to wear.

Clean clothes are a necessity.

Another clap of thunder as the dense rain violently pelts the roof. Relentless, hoping to chip away at the shingles, seeking to cause more damage than it already has. Though it never fails to ease his mind, he wonders. Had it always been this intense? He doesn't recall it being this bad before Karkat arrived. Had, it followed him, like this, with bullets of water so heavy, so close to becoming solid pellets of hail, punching bruises in his skin? Did it wish to put holes in him instead? Had he left the warmth and comfort of his home knowing exactly what kind of curse the winter rain can be? He couldn't have known. Or, at least, he couldn't have imagined what it might do to him. Karkat knows the value of his safety.

Karkat would also do anything for those he cares about, and sometimes, he's so urgent to help them, he lacks the proper foresight to think of the potential consequences. He can get aggressive when he truly believes he knows what's best for someone, not because he intends to be that way, but because he's afraid of what might happen otherwise. He tends to take charge, regardless of whether or not someone has it handled. He thinks he can do better. Fix things. If not fix things, keep things from progressing into an ever-expanding destructive black hole of consequences. Or doom. Or whatever lies at the end, whatever's been fated to happen. Karkat is so adamant he has to be the one to do things that he becomes reckless, and ends up throwing himself and everyone around him at the mercy of any current world-ending terror-inducing shitscram hurricane that's coming for them. He tries to think ahead, he does. And Eridan never questions where his intentions are, if his heart is in the right place. Karkat doesn't want to hurt anyone. He's been too soft to those who've hurt him, in his opinion, and he thinks he could use a sharp and bitter edge to stab at them with when they get too close. And of course, Karkat would never fling his friends into conflict without going himself. And asking first, and fighting and fixing with them.

He's too desperate to see that some things aren't worth the trouble.

This, particular plan of his being one of them. He could have done literally anything else. He could have gone to see another friend, could have spent the day at home, could have given himself time to figure something out, like a bus or a chat on the phone. He could have gotten someone to drive him, Eridan would have even picked him up if he'd asked, as soon as he'd got home. What if Eridan wasn't home? What if Karkat had gotten here and Eridan was still ten minutes away, or twenty, or hours? What if he'd come here just a little bit too early? What would he have done? Would Eridan even have made it? His body temperature has to have dropped; if he'd stopped exercising how much further would it have gone? He's not clinging to life right now, but what if he came home and his heart was barely beating and his breathing slowing to a stop? Is he overreacting? He doesn't, think he is. He doesn't want to be. He wants to be founded in his concerns, in his anxieties. And it's winter! And it's not even snow, and if it had got any colder he could have been glazed with an ice sheet, frozen over enough to where it would be tough to move. That's just the cold! That's just the timing! That's if he was able to last long enough for him to be there! Someone could have hit him. He could have fallen, or been speared, or been crushed under a landslide, or struck by lightning or electrocuted by a power line or cut in half or he could have pushed himself so hard his heart could have stopped and he could have sat there clutching at his chest and afraid to be alone in his final breaths and he - what if, Karkat didn't make it to his house? What if. What if? What if he hadn't made it to his house?

He can't help the wave of nausea that floors him, brings him to his knees and tears at the thoughts in his head. He's overreacting. People bike those distances all the time. But not like this, and not without breaks - did Karkat even bring anything to drink? God, dehydration! How could he forget about dehydration?

Oh, that's where the detergent is. His panic did something good, for once.

He grabs the box with his shaking limbs, drags himself up with the dryer as his support. His body doesn't react well to stress, worse than the average human, much worse than the average alternian. His meds are making him better. They're making him function on a low level, but it's not nothing. He wonders if he's going to have to end up in the hospital, though, instead of Karkat, because these things can take him there, and he doesn't want to be there. He doesn't, want. To be there. He wants to be here. He's going to be here.

Take care of Karkat. He's alive, he's okay. Take care of Karkat first, and then he can let himself worry.

He chucks three of the little pods of detergent into the washer and messes with the settings until he has something that works. Okay. Clothes are running, he's got that down. He was doing something else, too, but what...

Oh! Dinner! Dinner! Of course! How could he forget?

He scrambles into the kitchen to stir the pot and check the oven. He knows he's already had something to eat tonight, but it's not for him. Karkat needs calories. Nutrition. Fucking bastard ass fuck thinks he can get away with overworking his body for hours and casually brushing it off to try and talk to him? No. Karkat is eating. He's eating well, even if Eridan loathes making dinner on short notice. For him, always, he'll make an exception. He'd cook dinner for him even if he didn't bust his ass so hard it bled!

Karkat wasn't bleeding, and he's incredibly lucky he wasn't, for, reasons he won't think about right now, because thinking about it hurts to do, and he's already hurting.

The problem is that he doesn't have enough things to occupy his mind with right now. He promised he'd let himself feel and think and breathe when he got home, and he keeps his promises! he does! He's not someone to go back on his word no matter how bad things get, no matter how much he changes, so he'll let himself do those things when Karkat goes home tomorrow. It's only fair to the both of them. Neither of them should have to have extra on their plate today.

He, wonders how he can make Karkat more comfortable. What can he do right now to make things easier for him when he comes back downstairs? Is a candle or two overwhelming? Would it be too much to wrap him in something warm - he could grab him a hot pad, too, or does he need cold on his muscles? He should alternate, actually, he's heard it's much better for exercise-induced pain. He might be too tired to worry about any of that. Would he let Eridan help him with it? He'll ask. He could also make sure he has something to do while he's awake, if he decides the book he's picked out for himself is a piece of horseshit. What else does he like to do? Would he rather watch something, or play a video game? Nothing that involves moving. Walking up the stairs had to have sucked the last bit of energy Karkat had out of him, since it took him so long to do. Maybe he'll find a way to make it so that there's not as many stairs.

Should he even bother with it though? If Karkat would rather be to himself right now, he shouldn't push for anything. Though he, doesn't want to be a terrible host... so maybe a candle, a light scent in case Karkat can't handle anything stronger right now. A scent that fits with the smell from the kitchen, too, nothing that clashes. And he'll pile some folded blankets on the couch, and have him eat there instead of in the kitchen. What if he spills? Ah, who cares, it's not like Eridan isn't prepared for a spill, and having Karkat be as comfortable as possible is his top priority at the moment.

He executes comfort.exe. He ends task comfort.exe. He is now left to his own devices once again. The jarring state of his existence never seems to allow him or anyone else peace, does it?

He stirs listlessly at the pot in front of him, stares into its contents. So many feelings he can't account for, so many he wishes he couldn't. Wishing he knew what to do, or what he's supposed to think, or whether or not he's allowed to think at all. How does he keep his thoughts in check? He'd write them down, but he's all the way downstairs...

He guesses he can drown his sorrows in reddit videos or meme compilations, they're amazing for when you want your brain to function at -20%.

The moment he turns his phone back on, he's blasted with notifications, and he clicks the first one his finger lands on. What's he being redirected to?

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began pestering  caligulasAquarium [CA]

CG: HEY ERIDAN YOU THERE?

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased pestering  caligulasAquarium [CA]

Oh, god, that was this morning. Just before 6 AM. Karkat's never up that early? Did he have a nightmare? Was he supposed to be there to talk to him, and help him through? He usually is. He hasn't missed an opportunity to be there when he needs him, and yet this stands unanswered. But if that was the case, he would have gone to his moirail, right? If, Gamzee was up. If he wasn't busy. He might have tried him already. God, Eridan's a fucking failure of a friend, to the only one he has, no less. Could he be any more of a waste of space?

There's something not right, here, though. Usually when he doesn't answer right away, he goes into detail for when he does get there. Vents into an empty chatroom. They would have picked up from there, or Karkat would have been able to sort out his thoughts before he replied. Was he getting in contact with him to check on him? It's possible, but it only happens so often... Was he worried about him, then, for not answering? He could have called. He could have texted. Karkat has his number, or, at least, Eridan gave him his number. Maybe he misplaced it, and that's why he's been using Trollian. He could have asked him to give it to him again, though, if that was the case. Was he too prideful to admit that he'd lost it? Or maybe he didn't want to use it at all. That, seems more likely. He wouldn't blame him if that was the case, after all, he's Eridan. There's not much of anything that makes him worth having in someone's life, let alone his. Let alone Karkat's.

He doesn't deserve him. Doesn't deserve the effort he puts into their relationship, doesn't deserve to have a friend that he never gives back to. It's part of the reason he can barely look himself in the eye when he's getting ready in the morning, part of the reason he'd rather chuck his guts out for the bears than continue whatever it is they have. And yet they still have it! And he still craves it! And he can still fix things, can't he? Is that what Karkat's trying to do, though? Does he try to patch things up with him despite whatever he's feeling towards him?

He dreads knowing how he really feels about it, but. He'll talk to him. He has to, anyway, to see what kind of lunacy compelled him to do, _this._

There's, another chat that's recently been active? No, two. That's weird, but it could be Sollux and Vriska deciding it was a good time to tell him what a piece of shit he was. He decides to check on -

It's Gamzee. Just a few minutes ago, and there's more than one message, too. He's gonna get culled.

terminallyCapricious [TC] began pestering  caligulasAquarium [CA]

TG: HeY eRiBrO sOrRy To BoThEr YoU wItH mY mOtHeRfUcKiN mEsSaGeS bUt I hAvEn'T sEeN mY bEsT bRo AlL dAy

TG: He HaSn'T aNsWeReD mY tExTs Or CaLlS

TG: EvErYoNe ElSe HaS bEeN mOtHeRfUcKiN cAlLiNg hIm tO cHeCk Up On HiM bUt ThEy CaN't GeT aHoLd Of HiM eItHeR aNd It'S bEeN mOtHeRfUcKiN hOuRs

TG: AnD wE cAn'T fIlE a MoThErFuCkIn MiSsInG pErSoNs RePoRt UnTiL iT's BeEn 24 HoUrS mY mOtHeRfUcKeR

TG: He SaId He WaS hEaDeD oVeR tO yOuR pLaCe AnD tHaT hE'd GeT sOmEoNe To DrIvE hIm BuT hE hAsN't TaLkEd To AnY oThEr MoThErFuCkErS tOdAy

TG: I'm ReAl WoRrIeD aBoUt My BeSt Bro

TG: I kNoW yOu'Re NoT oN tRoLlIaN rIgHt NoW bUt If YoU sEe ThIs CaN yOu LeT mE kNoW wHaT's GoIn On OvEr ThErE aNd If My GoOd MoThErFuCkEr MaDe It SaFe?

TG: AnD mAyBe HeLp OuT iF hE hAsN't?

TG: I kNoW wE aReN't ThE bEsT oF fRiEnDs BuT i KnOw YoU mOtHeRfUcKiN cArE aBoUt KaRbRo AnD i KnOw YoU'lL dO yOuR mOtHeRfUcKiN bEsT tO hElP aNd ThAt YoU'lL bE hOnEsT wItH mE aNd GiVe Me ThE dEtAiLs

TG: SoMeTiMeS kArBrO dOeSn'T wAnT a MoThErFuCkEr To WoRrY aBoUt HiM yOu KnOw?

TG: ThAnKs My GoOd BrO

terminallyCapricious [TC] ceased pestering  caligulasAquarium [CA]

Well, since his Trollian shows him as active, he can't not answer, and he doesn't want to leave him on read anyway, for multiple reasons. He'd be shaken up if his moirail went missing too. If he had one, but, he can imagine, he's had one before.

caligulasAquarium [CA] began pestering  terminallyCapricious [TC]

CA: Sorry Gam there wwere some things goin on but you caught me at the right time

CA: He's safe but he's a dumbass

TC: WhY? wHaT dId He Do?

CA: Hold on I'll showw you

He makes his way onto his porch, snapping a photo of his driveway, and the weather, with the flash on. It's an ugly picture, but it'll do.

CA: _file attachment: image 2 mb_

CA: That's wwhat he did. Can't believve he biked all th'wway here from Maple Vvalley instead a'gettin someone else t'drivve him. He has his license doesn't he? Does he not havve a car yet?

TC: Ah, YeAh, ThAt SeEmS lIkE gOoD oL kArKaT mOtHeRfUcKiN vAnTaS

TC: He DoEsN't HaVe A cAr YeT bUt We'Re lOoKiN tO gEt HiM oNe LaTeR tHiS mOnTh

TC: LiKe ThE 28Th Of FeBrUaRy I tHiNk

CA: That's the last day a'th'month isn't it?

TC: It'S fEbRuArY aLrEaDy MaN?

TC: DuDe. I hAd No MoThErFuCkIn IdEa

TC: Is He ReAlLy OkAy ThOuGh? Is He In ThE mOtHeRfUcKiN eMeRgEnCy RoOm RiGhT nOw? Do I nEeD tO dRiVe OvEr?

CA: Y'can if y'wwanna Gam but he's alright, no major injuries or nothin' like that an' I evven made sure he wwasn't bleedin' though that wwas a little hard for me t'do considerin' evverythin'

TC: Oh YeAh. FoRgOt AbOuT tHaT

CA: You knoww about that?

TC: EvErYoNe KnOwS aBoUt It BuT iT's ReAlLy NoT tHaT bIg Of A dEaL mY gOoD mOtHeRfUcKeR. iF i WeRe YoU i'D gO aHeAd AnD lOoK. yOu WoN'T bE dOiN aNy HaRm By It

CA: I can't really do that Gam I'vve got my owwn honor code t'stick to an' I'm not breakin' it right noww or evver unless I'm th'only one around t'help him wwhen he needs it an' he's bleedin' t'death

TC: WhAtEvEr YoU sAy MoThErFuCkEr. I'm SuRpRiSeD yOu'Ve MaDe It ThiS fAr wItHoUt KnOwIn AnD i DoN't ThInK kArBrO kNoWs YoU dOn'T kNoW

CA: But you said evveryone kneww!

TC: My MoThErFuCkIn BeSt BrO iS rEaLlY gOoD aBoUt PiCkInG uP oN tHiNgS uNlEsS tHeY hAvE tO dO wItH hIm. He'S pReTtY gOoD aT mAkInG hImSeLf ToO bUsY tO nOtIcE mUcH oF aNyThInG uNlEsS iT's BeInG sHoVeD iNtO hIs FaCe

TC: MaN tHiS qUiRk Is So MoThErFuCkIn HaRd To Do WhEn I'm NoT hIgH

CA: You're still clean?

TC: I mEaN i Do ThE oCcAsIoNaL wEeD iF TaVrOs Or KaRbRo WaNtS tO dO iT wItH mE bUt UsUaLlY KaRbRo CaN't DuE tO ThE nAtUrE oF hIs JoB aNd TaVrOs HaS a HaRd TiMe WiTh DoInG iT. NoT lIkE i ReAlLy WaNt To Do It AnYwAy BuT iT's FuN tO lIkE mAyBe OnCe EvErY fEw WeEkS. nO fAyGo ThOuGh. Or EvEn SoPoR. i DoN't HaVe A sOpOr ChAmBeR cAuSe I dOn'T dO tOo WeLl WiTh ThEm AnYmOrE aNd TaVrOs PrEfErS tHe BeD aNyWaY

CA: Wwoww Gam you're doin really good an I'm real proud a'you

TC: ThAnKs ErIbRo. I kNoW nOt EvErYoNe ReAlLy GiVeS a ShIt WhEtHeR i'M hIgH oR sObEr As LoNg As I'm NoT kIlLiNg A mOtHeRfUcKeR sO iT mEaNs A lOt To Me To HeAr SoMeOnE oThEr ThAn TaVrOs Or KaRbRo SaY tHaT

CA: Wwell if you're wworkin real hard at it and it's somethin you really wwant for yourself I don't see wwhy you don't havve more support for it. Or at least open support Gam, I'm sure evveryone supports you specially since you're a lot happier than you used t'be and that's huge

TC: MaN i TrY sO mOtHeRfUcKiN hArD sOmEtImEs BuT tHeRe'S nO wAy I'm GoIn BaCk. I'm LiViNg LiFe AnD AcTuAlLy In ThE pReSeNt AnD tAvRoS sEeS tHe DiFfErEnCe AnD eVeRyThInG. i LiKe BeInG hErE, mAn, LiKe, ReAlLy HeRe

CA: I'm glad you do Gam cause if y'didn't that wwould be a real shame considerin howw hard you're tryin an y'shouldn't have'ta try so hard wwithout enjoyin the final result Gam

TC: YoU'rE sO rIgHt, MaN. hOw Is KaRbRo DoIn RiGhT nOw

CA: He's doin alright but he's real sore an tired. I'm cookin him up some dinner right noww so he can havve somethin t'eat after comin all this wway but I havve a feelin he just wwants t'go t'sleep

TC: I tHiNk YoU sHoUlD tAlK tO hIm BeFoRe He PaSsEs OuT sO yOu CaN tElL a MoThErFuCkEr NoT tO dO tHaT aGaIn, Or To CaLl Me WhEn He WaKeS uP. AnD tO cHaT wItH hIm, BeCaUsE hE rEaLlY mOtHeRfUcKiN lIkEs To TaLk To YoU, bRo

CA: He does?

TC: YeAh BrO

CA: Wwell I'll tell him t'call you in th'mornin an I'vve already scolded him for bein a fuckin dingus but wwe might havve a chat if that's the case

TC: SwEeT, mY gOoD mOtHeRfUcKeR

CA: I gotta make sure the food isn't burnin so I'll either talk to you later or nevver dependin on wwhat you prefer alright?

TC: TaLk To Me LaTeR tHeN, bRo, It WaS nIcE tO hEaR fRoM yOu

CA: I'm glad y'feel that wway Gam. Get some good rest an don't wworry about Kar, I'vve got it handled

TC: I kNoW mY mOtHeRfUcKeR

CA: Night

TC: GoOdNiGhT

caligulasAquarium [CA] ceased pestering  terminallyCapricious [TC]

What a, pleasant surprise. That actually left him feeling alright? And most of the time they didn't even talk about Karkat. Now, it's nothing close to what Karkat makes him feel, sure, but to have a conversation with someone and not feel like he's wasting their time, because they keep adding onto his responses? That's something he likes. Something he misses. He can't decide if Gamzee wants to be friends with him or not, but he can figure it out later, when they have their next conversation.

There's a promise of a next conversation.

He can't actually smile, but if he could, he'd be smiling right now.

He spends his remaining free time sitting on his kitchen stool and browsing Reddit or random forums on the internet, downloading practically every meme he can get his hands on, just in case. He sends them to Karkat every time they talk, but now he has someone else to send them to! He avoids clown memes; clowns are scary as they are, but Gamzee's also distanced himself from being a Juggalo. He keeps the face paint, it looks cool. He knows enough about him through Karkat, luckily, that he's not completely out of loop. It'll be nice to know more, and hear it from him, too.

Karkat always seems to be hanging out with friend after friend, talking to person after person. Does he ever get a break? Does he even want one? He's popular with those who meet him, and Eridan can see why; kind and caring, always willing to give advice even when he doesn't want to, always looking after people, funny, quick-witted, smart, tells you exactly what he's thinking but always manages to eases the blow a little if it's not what you want to hear, sociable. A lovable character who's passionate about his gut feelings and who never wavers in his word. He loves that in people. People who stick to their word, even when they hate it. Karkat can get angry about stupid bets he makes to people but he doesn't get himself out of whatever he's agreed to, and he'll never break a promise unless he's not there to keep it.

... Which reminds him. He's been, up there for a while, hasn't he?

Could he have...?

No! No, he couldn't have! Karkat isn't that tired, he can take a bath on his own and not get hurt.

...

He's, not happy about his paranoia, but it's not a bad thing to check on him, right? He'll be able to know if there's really something wrong, and if there's nothing wrong, no harm done.

He turns the stove down low and makes his way upstairs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long to do this one, and that it's shorter than the last one, things have been Ultra Tough but here's something funny: Remember Chapter One where Karkat says Sprite burns the shit out of his mouth and throat? Well you see, at about midnight my entire family decides to go get some Mc. Donald's. We get there and my mom is like "Blah blah blah what do you want to drink" "Oh like a caramel frappe or something" So I go to drink the drink after I'm done being on the phone with my brother, right, and what do I fucking find but fucking sprITE, in the fUCKING CUP, that burns the all of my soft mutant tissues! Hah! I still drank it. I don't think my tissues will ever forgive me. Expect something of this caliber in a chapter to come because it's too good not to tell right now but also too good not to write about (or maybe I'll use it in a JohnDave fic I'm planning I don't know)
> 
> Also my parents are getting divorced after 22 years of marriage so that's a kick in the ass to my 19 year old semi-vegetable self life sure throws curveballs at you don't it? I'll have a Ko-Fi link in my bio if you feel like helpin' out with my massive issues but otherwise just chill out and have a hella good day because you deserve it.


	6. Sand Shifting In My Coffee Cup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wgen ur both tuch starfved idjiots who needjurselvves some gud comfyenis in jur lievves

_There was nothing she wanted more than to run and hide away from her feelings, and still she relented to them, for if she ran they would follow without mercy. But what could she do about them, knowing she might not feel the same way? Should she risk it, take the leap and risk a rejection worse than death, or should she resign herself to a life of never knowing what could have been?_

He's on the edge of his little bath pillow seat, teeth barely restrained from grinding together. Listen. He's into shitty romance novels, and he admits that maybe this one isn't the most well-written novel he's ever seen, but the plot is fucking killing him and if he doesn't know how the rustblood treats the violetblood's confession he's going to scream. If she _doesn't_ confess he'll also scream, because they've been friends since childhood and they've told each other everything. Even things that would normally be too much information between _best friends,_ so why the FUCK can't they get over their feelings and tell each other, damnit, they're both so fucking deep in their feelings that they choke on them every morning when they wake up and every night as they stare into the fucking ceiling just do it already so he doesn't have to sit and watch the two of them scream internally and force themselves to not kiss each other-

"Are you alright in there Kar?"

He doesn't hear him, and it's not like he has to, because the violetblood is talking about her confession plans and he feels like he'll miss something if he doesn't give his full attention -

"Kar? Oh god please don't havve drowwned I don't wwanna havve t'hold your dead body."

This time the panic in his voice cuts through the intensity of the moment. Karkat rushes to dry his other arm while he holds the book open, there's no way he's fucking losing his place but he can't put a bookmark in like this because he's not coordinated enough to do it.

Oh right. He should answer him before he attempts to save him from drowning that's not actually happening. Neither of them want Eridan walking in on him.

"I'm okay, I'm okay! Sorry Eridan, I guess I might like this book a lot more than I thought I would."

"Oh? I think it's one a'the better ones outta all a'them, evven if I don't really like romance. It's a decent book ovverall is wwhat I think I mean t'say."

One of the better ones, huh? He thought he might hate it, given that they're from two w i l d l y different blood castes,. The more you know. "Yeah? Did you read it all the way through?"

A pause, he must be thinking. "I don't think I evver ended up finishin' it, no, but maybe I oughta. I think I stopped readin' that one 'round last March."

"Dude. That's almost a year ago."

"S'not like I do much'a anythin' wwith me bein' - wwell maybe I don't havve a good excuse for not finishin' it. I guess I oughta just do it sooner or later but I'vve been puttin' off catchin' up on all the books in my shelvves."

"Really? Why?"

"I havve a lot of books on a lot of shelvves."

"Fair."

He's putting off a lot of things, more than just those books, like having a constructive conversation with Karkat that could help them move forward. But it's fine. Small talk and banter after so long is a good leeway into bigger subjects. Karkat's being impatient. Karkat isn't taking into account either of their bodies' fatigue.

"Wwell I'll see y'wwhen y'get outta th'bath Kar, I hope it's doin' somethin' for ya."

"See ya."

He hears him walk away, and goes to open the book back up.

... Did he give an adequate response thought? He thinks to himself that Eridan is the one who keeps their conversation brief, but if he's honest, his responses have been a lot shorter and a lot harder to respond to than Eridan's. Eridan, talks. As long as he's prompted to, and maybe they haven't had their heart-to-heart yet because Eridan feels like he's talking more than he should. Maybe he feels like Karkat doesn't want to listen to him. Is he reading too much into things?

Well, it couldn't hurt to give a better attempt either way, if he remembers to listen to Eridan all the way through.

Part of him wants more small talk. Part of him wants to spend the night forgetting about all the shit he has to deal with and all the problems he has to fix. They could go back and forth with their opinions on the colors he's picked for his walls, or they could talk about where he got his couch, or his favorite tea or whatever he's doing to his hair lately that makes it look so much softer than it used to. And it would be fulfilling. And it would be exactly what he needs, and he'd get to know more about Eridan, and it wouldn't take too much effort to do. You can't have discussions about serious topics all the time. You can't claim to know someone without figuring out how they go about being themselves.

How does he get both things? He can't brush past why he's here, he doesn't want to ignore it, either. He wishes he had more time so he didn't have to pick, or cut down on one thing. Could he get away with staying another day, or half a day? Probably not. Eridan knows he can't get away with being away for long.

Wait.

He's on vacation, isn't he?

But would he be imposing on Eridan?

As if he's not already doing that. God, he didn't even think about that. The possibility that he'd be fine and that he wouldn't want to talk, that he might not want to be around people. He can't have changed that much, right? No matter how much he isolates himself. He has to want contact with people. He has to want friends. His friends meant everything to him, they were everything he ever had, and...

... Well, they didn't care much for him, not even then, but Karkat cares. He always has. He's just...

Goddamnit he's such an asshole.

Well, that gives him more to talk about, doesn't it? He's done with this bath, and this book, and these fucking delicious snacks and his kick ass gatorade and everything that reminds him that he's been a shit friend to him. Plus he's about to be wrinkly and he's getting tired and he can't fall asleep in the water.

So he pulls the drain up as he steps out, rubs himself down with the towel to get dry. He does feel a lot better, now, his muscles don't ache nearly as bad as they had been. He, feels soft, too. His skin has been unbearably dry and cracked all winter and he's been trying to figure out what the fuck to do with it - yeah, it's still a little dry. Yes, he knows long, hot baths dry your skin out. But there's gotta be something in there that's helping to fix his skin irritation. It, right. It wasn't a bubble bath. Maybe he used like, some oils or some shit? Why does he fucking care??? It's not like he's gonna go home and take another fucking bath in the next forever and a half. First thing he'll do when he gets back is stock up on more gatorade and chips because he gives not a single shit about nutrition as long as he's shoving shit into his mouth. And, that part of the 'shit' happens to be gatorade. He just wants some fucking gatorade, man. The simple pleasures.

Always off topic! He's dry now, and ready to get himself into some pajamas so he can go the fuck to -

...

Okay, he didn't forget them on purpose. Eridan's not that type of guy, and even if he _was,_ he's too scared shitless of Karkat getting hypothermia to let Karkat wear anything less than two layers of clothing to bed. I mean he obviously doesn't have it, and the symptoms won't develop now. He's simply paranoid. He knows he's paranoid about it, because that's why he took a _fucking bath._ Wasn't a bad idea of him to make him do it but it's not like he'll tell him that right now. Maybe later, if he still cares to think about it. Why the HELL does he keep wandering with his fucking - thOUGHTS - at least Eridan gave him a robe. Thank fuck.

He makes sure it covers, _enough_ of him, which it does, and tries not to slip down the stairs because his dumb ass forgot to dry he damn feet and now they're squeaky as hell.

"Uh, Eridan, do you have something I can wear, or uh..."

Eridan looks up from his current task - which, happens to be pulling something out of the oven? What in the fuck is he doing, it's like, 11 pm. He can see him looking everywhere but at his exposed skin (which is pretty much just his legs,) and his face. How courteous. His face flushes violet anyway, probably from embarrassment.

"I, swwear I left somethin' for ya Kar -"

"Yeah, this, and it works for now but like I can't sleep in this, I'll get too cold." Which is true. But he also doesn't want to be the only one who's, naked. Who wants to be fucking naked? Ever? That's too much physical vulnerability for a troll to handle in their own house, with no one around. Being naked means it's easier to get shanked. Not, like Eridan would shank him, but he's thinking like, you know, showers are fucking terrifying unless the curtains are open so you can see everything but then the curtains aren't protecting you and what happens if shampoo gets in your eye -

"I'll get y'somethin' hold on I'm so sorry Kar I'll, I'll be right back!"

"It's cool."

And then he disappears, and Karkat's standing in an open space, by himself, pulling the fabric of his robe closer together so the air doesn't find its way into any openings. At least he can stand. Are there any windows over there? No? Good. He doesn't want anyone seeing - only they wouldn't be able to see, because there's no one around to see, because Eridan has isolated himself from any sort of community and the only people that might end up being up here would be people looking to spend time in the mountains. This particular mountain isn't that popular.

Ah, there he is. His head is turned to the side as he hands him a set of clothes, and, of course, his own boxers. He must have washed them for him. Sollux just chucks one of his own clean pairs at his face when he needs to borrow some and that's a problem because Sollux is about two feet taller and half a foot wider than he is, so they never fit. Thank god, Eridan is a saint.

"Here y'are, I can get y'somethin' else if y'havve somethin' specific in mind but I hope these are okay"

"I'll tell you after I try them on or some shit like that."

"Okay."

"And don't expect me to be quick because I'm still balls deep in this chucksack of pain."

Another chuckle, he likes that. It's so nice to hear Eridan's voice after so long, and without all the panic or worry that riddles him. He doesn't talk about it with him, but he doesn't need to. He's seen it enough. He remembers.

He has to walk back up to the bathroom to change; a massive pain in the ass, though necessary. He can't wait until he doesn't have to move. The pajamas are a little bit longer than his normal ones but they fit, and they're warm, and have this fluffy softness to them, and they, smell, _really fucking good what is this and why can't he have it all the time_ _please let him take these home so he can get whatever this is to permeate his house_. Maybe his house smells like garbage, and that's why everything smells so nice here. Does he smell like garbage? Well if he did before he sure doesn't right now, thank fuck.

He yeet. He beet. He go down them stairs, and if I have to write about his stair trips one more time I'm going to chuck myself into the void because I do this to myself. I'm the reason he's constantly walking up and down the stairs, and I have issues with that, but the bathroom is up the stairs so what can I do? Make things less complicated? No. I absolutely refuse to do that.

"These are fine."

"That's good. Y'should sit on th'couch."

"Good plan."

Excellent. One step closer to his ultimate goal. He sinks into the cushions without another thought, and grabs a blanket Eridan folded on the other side of him. He hasn't felt this coddled, ever, so he's a little conflicted but for the most part he's enjoying every second of this. He resists, sure, and it sucks that he did some stupid shit to get here. It's all good now, he hopes. He hopes he's not kicking himself over Karkat's idiocy, or worried enough to be kept up at night.

Eridan passes him a bowl, and the steam wafting onto his face reddens his cheeks. The smell makes him hum involuntarily so he clears his throat to make it sound like he was holding back a cough, or clearing some mucus from his throat. Anything to avoid sounding like an idiot.

"What's this?"

Eridan huffs. He's, kinda cute when he puffs out his cheeks like that. Has he ever done that before? How has he not noticed? "Wwell I knoww for a fact that y'didn't plan far enough ahead t'consider wwhat you might be eatin' an' I doubt you evver thought t'pick somethin' up on your wway here, so I made y'somethin' that'll feel light enough t'eat on an empty stomach but'll at least last y'till mornin'. I'll probably end up feedin' ya a bigger breakfast, heavvy meals might help y'sleep but y'don't wwanna be uncomfortable."

"You made this, like, for real? Or did you heat up a fucking container or something because either way I'm not complaining."

"I made it, can't be bothered t'figure out wwhat brand a'chicken noodle I like more. That's some trivvial shit right there. I mean wwho th'hell has time t'figure out th'different tastes of evvery fuckin' chicken noodle soup? Not me. I got better shit t'do."

That's, that's so sweet? What the fuck. That's some fucking sentimental bullshit right there and he won't have it. He's a big fat liar yes he will have it and he'll soak it up like a dry sponge to hot water because he's a fucking cheeseball and Eridan doesn't need to know he's being soft does he now??? Nope. Eridan won't be able to tell. He's free to have warm gut feelings, that are immediately dunked into the garbage pit of his stomach by the crushing guilt that follows. It punches him so hard he coughs out all the air in his lungs. Eridan's eyes strain, he wraps Karkat in another blanket. Damnit, no! This time, he manages to make it a sigh.

"You know, when people don't care about their soup, they usually pull some packaged Lipton from the shelf and throw it in the cart, because it's actually less effort to buy a package than tell yourself that taste is more important."

"Oh, you'd rather resign t'a shit soup than givve twwo seconds a'your time t'make a simple broth and toss some chicken pieces in there? I made the noodles but evven if I didn't it'd still be better than a box of powwdered disappointment an' lack a'nutrition."

Karkat tries to get the spoon in his damn mouth but he can't help the snicker that comes from his chest. It causes some of the soup to go up his nose and FUCK THAT BURNS W H Y JESUS FUCKING CHRIST HOLY SHIT GET IT OUT - ah, there's a tissue. He takes it from Eridan's hand and blows his nose, luckily there's a tiny trash bin next to the couch. The first piece of trash since Eridan got home, and it's Karkat's borderline bloody snot tissue. Wonderful. "Some of us don't have the time, contrary to your impression."

"That's fair but if y'evver need some fuckin' soup I'd rather y'call me than chuck a bag a'dehydrated vomit into a pot a'boilin' wwater."

"I'll remember that next time if I'm not blowing my fucking innards out of my orifices."

"Thank y'for considerin' it Kar I appreciate it."

"Not a fucking problem."

He tries to grab another tissue to clear the rest of his runny nose but Eridan is faster than Karkat. Curses. He thanks him as he's handed yet another tissue, gets everything out with an embarrassingly loud blow of air that sounds oddly like a honk. Eridan doesn't dare look at his tissues, and dude. He wouldn't blame him. Tissues are nasty, though he's not had too much of a problem with the sight of them before? Or maybe he hasn't picked up on it yet.

Finally. Okay, this time, he can eat it. He closes his lips over the spoon and doesn't bother to stop the hum that bubbles into his throat. God, that's some fucking amazing soup. It might be his hunger that's making it taste better, and he doesn't give a single shit if that's the case because he's fucking hungry and he's about to shovel a whole damn bowl of soup into his gullet.

"This is pretty good."

"Wwell, uh, thank you."

Neither of them can think of what to add, and Karkat tries, he does, but the words fizzle out on his tongue. The conversation dies. Eridan wrings his hands together, stares into space, face expressionless except for the fleeting and shifting emotions in his eyes. He must be searching, too. Is it the right opportunity to jump at what he wants?

The moment he goes to ask him Eridan turns to walk off. No, no, no! Get back here, come on! He makes it much farther than he wants him to, halfway between the counter and the couch, before Karkat finally spits something out in an attempt to set, something, anything up.

"Aren't you gonna sit down with me?"

Not what he had planned. He wasn't thinking about it, but then it came out and he found it was exactly what he wanted. His mouth has a better connection to his heart than his brain. He's always hated that about himself, he has. Right now, he can't find a reason to be angry about it.

"Wwhy wwould you wwant me t'do that, exactly?"

"Be... cause?" He doesn't know. He doesn't know why. He wants to know why, and he'll find out, if only Eridan will come over here. It'll stir it out of his brain. It has to.

"I'vve got things t'do Kar an' you need t'eat your dinner an' I doubt it'd be any good for me t'make things awwkwward wwhile you do that."

Who the - everything has been awkward this evening! At least they could have a reason for it to be awkward, and it would keep them from having to talk so loudly. "It's only awkward if you make it awkward." Oh, and that, too!

"No, it's awwkwward because _I'm_ awwkwward, an' I'm a little bit of a -"

"Can you shut the fuck up and get over here already?"

Okay, okay. Be an asshole. That's what he's decided to do, huh? The silence is going to fucking kill him, it's churning his insides in all the worst ways. Say something, even just a fuck you. Please. Before he can think any further about his terrible decisions that he didn't actually know he was making.

"Fine. Givve me a minute t'get my cup."

An exhale. The tension is relieved for a moment, but then he's taking a while to get to the couch, and he wonders if Eridan has decided to passive-aggressively tell him his feelings about it, instead. That'd hurt so much worse.

Then, he's there. And he's holding a second mug, and he passes it to Karkat after Karkat sets his bowl on the side table.

"Another cup of tea? You know I prefer coffee right?"

"Yeah Kar, I'm gonna givve you coffee at this time'a night just 'cause y'like it better than tea. Of course I knoww y'like it better! This is somethin' for that headache you'vve got an' don't deny you'vve got one 'cause you're squintin' your eyes a lot an' you only do that wwhen your head hurts like hell."

"Fuck you."

"Wwell fuck you too then. Just tryin'ta be considerate a'your condition right noww Kar."

"I know, I know."

The spice fills his lungs with the warmth of home and his heart beats slower, knots in his stomach loosen up. Ginger, lemon, and honey. This must be for his mucus buildup that he's getting, then? He takes a sip as Eridan finally settles next to him, and the combined heat of the drink flooding his limbs and Eridan's close proximity have his face red yet again. It's, not that he feels for him or anything, and that's true! Karkat doesn't feel red feelings for anyone, but this is much closer than he thought it would be. And it's not at a time Karkat has to give his mental and emotional effort. It's them, being close. That's it. He, okay, they're gonna talk in a little bit but it's on Karkat's terms! It's not for surrogate therapy reasons. This is for Karkat.

He's daring. Pushing his limits. He scoots a little closer, not enough for Eridan to take notice, and then he catches a whiff of what's in Eridan's mug. Is that, is that fucking coffee? He has _coffee?_

"That smells way too strong to be a nighttime drink."

"Wwell I havve more I'vve gotta do before I go t'bed t'night, seein' as I just got back from a real long trip. The caffeine isn't good for me 'cause I'm not technically s'posed t'have it wwith my meds but it wwon't do anythin' too bad. Just raises my heart rate a little higher than normal an' makes me real anxious so I can't handle stress as wwell."

"Huh. Is, that why you weren't online?"

"Yeah. Don't havve reception evverywwhere I go, I mean I might havve it sometimes but I figure it's easy just t'keep it off wwhile I'm out there on the road. Keepin' it on evven wwhile I'm home doesn't do much for me. Wwhy havve all a'that draggin' me behind wwhen I'm somewwhere that can't judge me and doesn't wwanna? That an' I feel like I gotta respect evverythin' I get t'see out there."

That's what he's been up to. Doing, actual stuff, instead of sitting in his house, to himself. Though he doubts he went with anyone, with the way he's talking. Must be refreshing to be able to drop everything and go and not have to worry about what'll be waiting for him when he gets back - no, he said he had things to do. What things? Can he, know these things?

He's gotta catch him before he goes off and Karkat is left to himself for the rest of the night, and there's no way in hell he's gonna let himself fall to sleep in the middle of it.

"... Can I have a sip?"

"Are y'plannin' on goin' t'bed Kar or not?"

Fuck going to bed. "I, well. I, kind of came here to talk to you about some things, and I want to be able to stay awake long enough to do it."

The atmosphere shifts back into tension, Eridan stares into his mug for, a long while. He's made him anxious. He doesn't want that.

"I, I suppose so."

His hands tremble slightly as he passes him the mug of, surprisingly cold coffee, which he trades off his tea for. He can't tell what it's about to taste like, there's no smell.

One sip and his eyes are watering, mouth searing. It's not the temperature.

"Fucking hell this shit is burning my damn tongue! What the fuck is in this fucking cup?!"

"I guess I shoulda figured y'wouldn't like it all that much but It's not like I can keep you from wwantin' t'try it Kar. It's got like four different kinds'a coffee in it cause I can't be bothered t'givve a shit as long as I'm gettin' the rush'a energy I need. I think one'a them has chili pepper in it too."

"Why?! Why do you need chili pepper in your fucking coffee?!"

"Can't be sleepin' if your mouth burns so bad you're contemplatin' rippin it right outta your body."

"Hm. You have a point." And it's absolutely fair. Karkat's not going to be comfortable enough to go to sleep anytime soon, and the burn worsens when he sips back at his cup. He'd cry. Maybe. If he gave a shit.

And then he does give a shit, but not about himself.

"Hey wait a minute aren't you more sensitive to literally everything than I am? Like doesn't being part fish make your membranes soak more particles in on contact?"

"Dunno. Not all fish are as sensitivve as you think, I dunno wwhether I'm more like a salmon or like a goldfish. Probably more like a shark than anythin', wwhich wwould probably make me more sensitivve t'stuff than if I wwas like a salmon or somethin' - wwhy the hell is this relevvant?"

"Don't uh, destroy yourself with this fucking monstrosity of a beverage."

"S'not like there's much else t'do besides chuck it in th'sink. Better t'drink it as long as it'll do its job."

"Are you the type of person who buys cherry cough syrup just because they can't be fucking bothered to go and find a better flavor then?"

"I make my owwn."

"You fucking what now"

"I make my owwn. S'cheaper and I can put wwhatevver I wwant in it. Wworks better too."

"Since when do you care about things being cheap?"

"I get sick a lot, I think I'd go broke if I bought myself cough syrup evverytime I needed it."

"Aren't you fucking loaded?"

"Wwell, that oughta tell y'enough about howw much I get sick, then."

Can he even imagine him being sick enough to warrant cough syrup? He tries to, and it doesn't work very well. Eridan's always seemed to be healthy. Besides, uh. Being, dead for a while. Would him being sick be like that, but, with color in his eyes?

Now he sees it. He doesn't like it. It makes him, feel cold.

Karkat scoots even closer, hoping maybe Eridan is warmer.

He's not.

He has to do something before the unease pools in his body.

"I, okay before we get sidetracked yet again by some meaningless object or I try to fucking avoid my own bullshit I have to start this fucking conversation because I'm about to internally blow my fucking thinkpan lid."

"I don't knoww wwhat you're here for so yeah, you're gonna havve'ta start it, but I did see that y'attempted t'contact me this mornin' on Trollian."

A deep breath, and then another one.

"First thing, don't fucking scare me like that again. I want to at least know you're leaving the day you're leaving holy shit Eridan why the fuck would you even be gone that long - doesn't fucking matter as long as I know you're not all of the sudden dead okay? God. I almost chewed through my fucking hand this morning."

"Got it. I'll tell you next time Kar but wwhatevver the hell you wwere doin' before y'sent that text can't wwarrant you fuckin' stayin' up 'till the ass crack a'dawwn in th'middle a'the darkest part a'the year. I knoww your sleepin' habits. Y'don't like t'be up that long or that early."

"Okay, sure, but it's not like you'd have known anyway if I hadn't sent you a message."

"You're damn right but can y'please make a better attempt t'take care a'yourself?"

"I could say the same thing to you but for completely different reasons that I'll get into after this and I'll promise to take better care of myself if you can promise me something a little bit later."

"Okay Kar, I'll keep that in mind."

"Good, but I don't want you to fucking promise me shit just so you'll get me to do shit. Lucky for me, I know you don't make empty promises anyway. I want you to make the promise for yourself though and not for me because I'm not fucking here for me I'm here because I'm here for you."

Eridan trembles harder. He didn't realize he'd still been shaking, and he hopes it's the caffeine and not nerves alone. Goddamnit he, he said caffeine makes it worse didn't he? Shit, shit. He picked the shittiest time to talk about it and he can't turn back.

"That doesn't make much sense Kar, seein' as I don't havve any fuckin' friends."

"We'll also get to that. Moving on. I..."

Some more thoughts that make him Roblox Oof right in all the squishiest parts of his gut, including literally everything leading up to this moment and how Eridan's had to deal with some Shit today.

"Listen, man, I've been a real jerk."

"Kar, n-"

"Yes I have! And before I give any other reasoning, because I know you'll deny everything else I say, I forgot to fucking tell you happy tenth sweep who the FUCK does that?!"

"Evveryone else I know? 'Xcept Cro an' Kri, an' Dirk for some reason."

"What in the FUCK do you mean Dirk told you happy tenth sweep?"

"I mean exactly that Kar. He got my handle from Cro an' decided t'tell me happy tenth sweep 'cause he wwas actually interested in bein' my friend? He talks t'me sometimes but it's not often."

"Ohmygod. Dirk talks to you more than I do doesn't he?"

"Wwell yeah. He does. A lot a'people from th'alpha session talk t'me more than you do, an' that's just howw it happens Kar. I knoww you're real busy and t'be honest I'm not th'best t'talk to so I get it."

"Okay. Alright. I guess that makes some fucking sense considering you actually have a close relationship with your ancestor/brother/whatever the fuck you call him but it doesn't make me any less angry with myself."

Angry enough to see red, though he knows his eyes aren't turning colors. Fucking idiot. Fucking, idiot! It's not that hard to remember someone's birthday. All it would have taken, all he would have had to give was ten minutes of his time. Ten minutes, including remembering, pulling his phone out, and typing happy birthday. That's with Eridan replying. That's with them talking. It would take two for him to do it alone, and to go back to his day, ignoring whatever might happen next. Dirk, someone who hasn't even spent a full hour in Eridan's presence, did the ONE thing Karkat failed to do on his tenth sweep. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck this, fuck him. Karkat doesn't deserve to be talking to Eridan right now, and yet, here's Eridan, giving him his time, when he wants to be taking care of tasks that'll only grow harder to do the more he puts them off.

"You don't need t'be angry wwith yourself Kar."

And there he goes. He has the audacity to act like it's not a big deal, to brush himself off to make Karkat feel better about it. No. No, that won't slide. Not here, not now, not ever again.

Not as long as Karkat can help it.

"Maybe I do need to be angry with myself! Sometimes you have to do that! Sometimes you have to go 'why in the fuck are you like this' because who else is going to tell you you're doing it wrong?" He'll paint it as the need for Karkat to be honest with himself, right now. If he pushes against him? If he continues to sweep himself under the rug? He doesn't know if he can hold his feelings back.

"I get that part a'it I do, but you aren't doin' anythin' wrong Kar! And y'didn't do anythin' wrong then! Y'wwere caught up in somethin' because y'clearly care enough t'say somethin' about it, evven if it wwas a little late, an' i nevver expected that a'you, an' I nevver expected y't'drop evverythin' an' givve me a second a'your time wwhen you couldn't."

"But I could! I could have done it and I didn't!"

"It's okay, y'already told me y'forgot, I knoww you coulda an' that it wwas an issue a'memory so there musta been somethin' takin' your energy."

No! NO!

"I shouldn't have given it my energy is the point I'm trying to make!"

"Kar you'vve got stuff t'do all the time! So many other people t'talk to!"

"But I don't WANNA talk to them! I wanna talk to YOU!"

Nothing. Nothing, for what feels like hours, as Karkat's feelings sear and bite at him. They want out. Not yet, not yet, not until he can think of something else to say, not until he can keep his voice level. He doesn't want it to rise. He doesn't want his tone of voice heated. It'll scare him. He's probably already scared him. He's trying so hard but everything is scorching hot and it only grows hotter with every breath he takes.

"You do?"

"I, fucking duh! Why do you think I'm here? It's not just to apologize for being a shithead or tell you to fucking quit the shit, I'm here to talk to you. I texted you this morning because I wanted to. And because you popped into my head. And because you're a break from all of my friends who feed me shit every morning for breakfast! They shovel shit into my earholes and my fucking mouth and my stupid eyesockets but you don't even talk to me unless I talk to you first! And you're never shoveling garbage down my fucking throat, and I need that in my life!"

It's selfish of him, to want.

"I need someone who wants to be my fucking friend, not tug me around and milk me for every drop of life force I have. You're one of the few friends I have that's healthy for me and you're never around enough for me to enjoy you like I want to."

It's selfish of him, to ask.

"I didn't even tell you happy birthday because I was focused on other people's problems when I should have been giving you my time. Something. Something other than nothing, Eridan. One message was all it would have taken for you to know I hadn't forgot. But I did forget."

Selfish of him to take, and not give.

"I forgot all about it and now I can't, do anything about it, except for say I'm sorry."

And he is sorry.

He's so sorry, and that's not even half of what wants to come out.

He, hates, silence, especially after he's talking. He doesn't want to interrupt Eridan's thoughts because he knows he needs to think but it doesn't feel like he's processing any of his feelings and he can't take one more minute of him shutting himself off.

"I, look, I know it was fucking shitty of me but I need some feedback from you or I'm gonna scream."

"Sorry, I, didn't expect that from you Kar."

"Expect what from me?"

"Evverythin'."

"This is what you should be expecting. You should be expecting people to care and to do something about their fucking feelings, even if it's too late for them to really do anything. Eridan, come on. You deserve better than this. You deserve to be valued and sought out and, talked to. At the bare minimum, talked to."

"I..."

"And I know it's hard for you to think about but you really should value yourself a little more! And I'm tired of you pushing yourself back to make others feel better, including me. You did it just a minute ago. I can quote you, so don't fucking deny it, okay? I want you to think about it. I want you to try."

Nothing. He's turned away from him. Why. Why? If he won't speak to him he can at least look at him, please. Please.

Please?

"Can you at least promise me this? Can you talk to me when you want to talk to me, from now on? A hello. Even an emoji. I'll take anything and god, I'll probably need it too."

"Why?"

"I miss you."

So much, he misses him so much. He doesn't ever think about it until it's already so bad he's stuck at his computer or phone internally begging for a response. Bargaining with nothing. Clawing at his face in anticipation and hoping he hasn't left this world. Why hasn't he told him this before? Eridan should know. Eridan should know he's missed, that he's cared about. That he's needed. He,

He needs Eridan in his life. He said that already, but it didn't hit him then. He needs him, right now. All he gets instead is more, of that, fucking heart-wrenching lack of words, that he can't find any meaning in. Fuck. No.

"Yeah, I know you don't believe me, but I do. I miss you. Please."

Promise him, Eridan.

"Come on."

Promise him you'll stop being an afterthought in your own life. 

Please.

_Please._

He stops hiding his need to be closer, and presses himself against his back, rests his head against his shoulder. He's still colder than the outside weather. He doesn't care. He'll endure it, he'll get used to it, he'll learn to revel in it as long as he needs to to feel like he's with him again. He squeezes his arm, too, he tries not to do it too hard, he doesn't want to hurt him. He feels like he's trying to squeeze an answer out of him, and part of him is. He needs one. He needs a yes or a no. One word. One word is all it takes. He can't breathe. What happens if he lets go? Does, Eridan walk away, if he lets go? He can't. He won't.

"O, Okay. I wwill, Kar."

That's not only four whole words, that's four whole words that mean yes. That mean a promise.

"Thank fuck. Thank fuck, that makes me feel a lot better." Karkat smiles into Eridan's shoulder as he leans further into his back. He can't hear it, he doesn't register, but he's giving a soft purr that tickles Eridan's fins enough to make them twitch. Stupid. He's stupid, but he's happy and stupid.

Eridan doesn't push him away, doesn't stop him from snuggling up a little bit, and that makes his stupid little bloodpusher of a heart swell with warmth. His limbs are cold, though, so he wraps the blanket around them the best he can. His arms are too small. Eridan helps him the rest of the way so he doesn't strain himself trying.

"Is, that evverythin' y'wwanted to brush ovver, or...?"

"I don't know. I think that's all I came here for but now I'm curious about a lot of things, and I,"

He doesn't mind silence for now. He wouldn't care if they sat like this for the rest of his two weeks off. But he...

"Is it okay if we hang out for a while? It doesn't have to be long, like, even fifteen minutes is better than nothing. I wanna talk."

"About wwhat?"

"How was your day?"

"Really Kar? You wwanna talk about _my_ Day?"

That's a fair response.

"Listen I get it, I do, but I'm genuinely curious. I wanna know."

Eridan loves to make his bloodpusher leap into his damn throat with how often he's silent doesn't he? He's gonna fucking suffocate.

"You do."

"Yeah?"

About everything he wasn't here for, at least, because he can only imagine he's emotionally taxed. He'll curse himself out later. He's glad he didn't wait too long to answer him.

"Wwell I, did a lot'a drivvin' t'day. Not as much as th'other days but I still wwent a little wways considerin' I'd stopped in Portland the day before. Portland is a wweird place. I saww a group a'dudes wwalkin' aroun' naked wwith their pet chickens. It wwas real gross but hey, that's wwhat y'get for stayin' in Portland."

"You what"

"They'vve got lawws allowwin' nudity in public but it's alwways so wweird. Humans are, eeueuugh nevvermind I don't wwanna think about it but breakfast wwas nice. An' then I drovve through Wwashington an' picked up my groceries cause I mean I gotta stock the fridge after not bein' here for three wweeks."

"You were gone, the whole time? Like. The _whole_ time. If I'd messaged you earlier you wouldn't have seen it?"

"Nope. I wwouldn't've, I'vve been gone 'till about four pm t'day."

"God damn, I should have talked to you before you left."

"Kar."

"Right, right. Anything else?"

"I mean I took a bath an' ate dinner an' read some but then you showwed up an' that wwas th'rest a'it - OH! I talked t'Gam."

Shit. He completely forgot about that. His fucking moirail is probably ready to choke him out for being an idiot, or he would be, if he wasn't more forgiving. Gamzee deals with so much of his shit, always knows exactly what Karkat needs, even when Karkat doesn't. He fucking loves Gamzee.

"Oh man."

"Yeah. Don't scare th'shit outta your moirail again Kar, evveryone's been wworried about you. They'vve been tryin' to reach you all day. I told him you wwere okay an' then I guess wwe just talked for a little bit?"

"About, what?"

"About things. Mostly 'bout howw sober he's been, an' I had no idea he'd been doin' so good about it!"

"Yeah, he's great."

A small pause, but only for a few seconds. Thank god. Thank god they're really talking some.

"You smoke wweed?"

Oh jesus no not that Gamzee was supposed to keep that on the downlow! "ONLY SOMETIMES OKAY???" Sometimes is still smoking weed. Good thing Eridan can keep his fucking mouth shut.

"Heh, I can only imagine howw you'd be high. Actually, I can't. That'd be a sight t'see."

"Maybe I'll invite you then next time asshat, see how you like being high."

"I mean if you wwant but my body doesn't do good wwith drugs. I'm evven sensitivve t'a lotta medications an' one a'my doctor's been fuckin' me up real bad lately. Got me on some sort of steroid that just fuckin' tanks my system but noww I can't be off steroids or else I'm in real trouble."

"What kind?"

"Th'kind that makes your body manufacture a chemical it needs t'livve."

O, Oh. Oh no.

"Ohmygod I had no idea, are you...? Are you gonna be okay?" Because if he won't be okay, he has a fucking doctor to eat.

"Yeah, I'll be fine. I found a different doctor an' they're gonna try an' fix me back up wwith somethin' that's not a steroid but I havve t'see the other doctor too for a bit wwhile I transition t'my other meds so I still get th'care I gotta get."

"Alright. Um, but are you gonna be okay?"

"I told you-"

No, not like that. "No, like, do you need any support?"

"I, dunno, Kar. I havven't really thought about that."

"I think you should think about it."

"Wwell maybe I'll think about it then."

Good, good. He likes that. He's already making good on his promise to him. His smile widens, before he remembers to not be an absolute dumbass. Too late for that though.

"This was supposed to be about your day."

"No, s'okay. I didn't really wwanna talk about it too much anywway. Wwasn't all that great a'a car trip."

A longer pause. He doesn't want things to die out.

"Do you even enjoy going on those?"

"I do! They take a lotta energy though so I gotta savve them for wwhen I can handle them, and for wwhen I'm doin' better on my meds. Plus I gotta make sure I'vve got enough t'last me th'wwhole trip so I don't run out in th'middle'a nowwhere."

"Yeah, yeah."

He, has a, stupid idea. He probably shouldn't execute it.

"Would you mind me, tagging along, sometime?"

Aaaaand, there he goes.

"You'd wwanna go?"

"Yeah."

Eridan reaches his arm over to place his mug on the side table, but Karkat takes it from him and does it for him so he doesn't have to strain too hard.

"For howw long?"

"However long you'd wanna take me for, I guess."

This time, he can tell he's thinking in the silence. That's good. He likes that.

"I'll tell y'the next time I'm plannin' t'take one an' wwe'll see if you're free."

"Yeah, yeah. That sounds great."

It drops dead, but it's because they don't feel like they have to fill in for anything. Karkat feels fuller. He feels lighter. The silence is full of warmth and content, it's more like a blanket draped over the both of them instead of a crushing weight threatening to end everything between them. Eridan readjusts himself so that he's laying down, and Karkat lays next to him. Rests his head on his chest. Listens to the beating of his heart, runs his hand over it.

"I wanna talk to you more."

"About?"

"Everything?"

"Wwhat d'y'mean?"

"I wanna know what you've been doing ever since I last saw you."

"That wwas a feww years ago."

"I know."

Maybe, now isn't the time, he thinks. He brought it up but he's feeling a little sleepy, and he wants to be awake for all of it, doesn't want to miss a thing. Getting to know him a little better will have to wait, but he'll let his mouth run for him anyway, because then his feelings won't be pent up, and Eridan will know what he wants to do later.

"I don't think I can talk t'y'about it right noww Kar, it's a lot t'talk about an' I don't havve the energy for it."

"Okay." He thought he might not, which is perfectly fine. Almost preferable.

"But I'll tell y'about it th'more wwe spend time together? It'll be easier an' more natural that wway anywway."

"Yeah, I'd like that."

More time with Eridan, on Eridan's terms, on Karkat's terms. People who don't let themselves do what they want, doing things they want to do together. The thought makes him purr louder, makes his eyelids heavy with sleepy peace.

"I, don't even know that much about you from when we were younger."

"That, uh."

His heart beats faster. He doesn't like that.

"Do y'wwanna wwatch somethin'?"

"Sure."

He turns the TV on and flips it to some bullshit channel. It's all for background noise, he's avoiding things. That's okay. He's allowed to avoid things. He's gotten everything he's needed from him today, so if he needs to not do the thing, he shouldn't have to do the thing. It's not like Karkat wants to worry about it right now, either.

The longer they sit, the heavier sleep gets. Eridan's heartbeat has calmed, and the slow, drumming pace has Karkat barely able to lift his hand, but he's not ready to close his eyes.

"I don't wanna go to sleep until I talk to you some more." What he really wants, is to hear Eridan's voice.

"Kar, you're talkin' like you'll nevver talk t'me again. I'll be here t'morroww. I'll be here most a'th'time. Wwhenevver you're free."

"But I..." He, nothing. If he eggs him on, he can feel his words rumble in his chest, against Karkat. He likes the feeling. It makes him tingle a little bit.

"Kar. Please?"

"Okay."

The TV drones on. Neither of them are listening.

"You're gonna be here when I wake up, right?" Karkat grips at the fabric of Eridan's shirt absentmindedly, desperate. It's not something he was thinking about until it came from his mouth, and now it's making him anxious, he couldn't, he can't, what if he -

"Wwhat kinda question is that Kar this is my fuckin' house. I just told y'I'd be here."

Mm, more of those wonderful rumbles, and from such beautiful words. "Just making sure you're not going anywhere."

"M'not, I mean, unless I get groceries or somethin' t'morroww but I already got those."

"Cool."

Karkat, finally feeling whole and fulfilled after so long, gives into sleep. Eridan lays with him there, for a while, but he knows he'll get cold again if he keeps cuddling against him, and Eridan's not sure he can handle being so close to him for so long, because he won't be able to let go. He carefully, so as not to disturb him, gets up with him in his arms. He keeps his eyes away from Karkat as he carries him up the stairs, slowly, into the guest bedroom, and tucks him in so he'll stay warm. He, wants to look, so badly.

So, very badly, but he can't. Not without his permission.

A soft squeeze to his hand, when Eridan indulges in himself a little, and he turns off the light, stands in the doorway for a moment. He'd stay, he'd sleep next to him. If only he felt he could.

"G'night Kar."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title came from my coffee cup, where it had orange particles that would shift like sand when I did anything with it. It was really pretty, they might have been mushroom bits cause it was mushroom coffee. The caffein destroyed my headache but probably wasn't great for my stress, haha. And that was like, today and yesterday, because I've been working on this for a bit.
> 
> Right now I'm waiting for my tea to cool but it shouldn't take long because my room can drop to like 40 degrees at night even during the summertime. I've had a cold for almost a month. I'm so tired of my body's shit.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter, because I wrote most of it between the hours of 5 pm and 4 am for two days in a row.


	7. I have never wanted to break my legs more than I have today

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When you wake up in your friend's house wondering how the hell you got there and then you get home and, as the chapter title says, want to break your legs because your emotional support seadweller is four hours away whoops sorry about that Karkat

The morning light drapes over Karkat's sleeping face, illuminating the way his features twist and turn in his sleep. This, of course, does not last, because Karkat is a light sleeper.

Karkat grumbles as he props himself onto his elbows. His arms, still aching from yesterday, are not happy with this arrangement and so he sways, but he manages to steady himself and sit halfway up. Where...? Where is he? Whose bed is this? These aren't his clothes. Is he - well, he has underwear on, at least, and it's his _own,_ not someone else's. So then...

... Oh, yeah. As Karkat gives himself a minute to breathe, everything from yesterday washes over him. It's not that he didn't remember in the first place; how could he forget the way his body hated him? It's more like, he thought it wasn't real. That it was some sort of dream, and that maybe he'd passed out halfway there and he was slowly dying on the road or some shit like that. The first time he's seen Eridan in a sweep... he didn't manage to take a good enough look at him, unfortunately, because when he tries to think of his face now, it's blurry, or it's how he remembers him from the first time he saw him. Maybe he'd get a good visual if Eridan would _look,_ at him, instead of looking at his hair or his shirt or some shit. He should have sneaked a peek of him while he was cuddled up to him but he, he wanted to fucking cuddle damnit. And he shouldn't have to _sneak_ a look at him! Eridan should be comfortable with being seen, and seeing Karkat.

He'd do something about it but the bed is so soft, and warm, and the air outside of it is cold, and he doesn't feel like moving anyway. He can indulge. He's allowed to let himself relax on his vacation. And thank god he's getting some time to himself too, because he needs time away from all of his...

... Friends. Goddamnit. His friends are probably scared to all hell unless Gamzee felt like telling them what the hell was, and still is, going on. Does he have to go home? If he breaks his legs can he stay here? Maybe he'll get himself sick, go outside or swallow some dirt or something. Eridan wouldn't let him leave if he was sick, would he?

But that's a lot on Eridan. It's not like he asked to take care of Karkat's stupid ass.

He groans, stumbles out of bed. He should give him a proper apology, or at least offer to help around the house, if he has some fucking time. He's supposed to have time. He'll make time, as long as Eridan accepts it. There's a possibility he'll send him home ASAP, which means either Gamzee will have to come and get him, or Eridan plans on taking him himself. He can take time with Eridan in the car. He'll find a way to either entertain himself or get Eridan to talk some more. The thought of hearing his voice again is what gets him to march his ass downstairs to see if Eridan is up.

His vision is still a little blurry from waking up so abruptly, though, it's starting to clear up. What's that smell? It, smells really good... Eridan's house seems to have a lot of different smells, but all of them are fucking amazing. He rubs his eyes and looks into the kitchen.

"Eridan?"

A blob he presumes is Eridan whips around from what he's doing and puts down whatever he was holding. He wishes he could fucking see right now, so he could give himself a visual to remember.

"Oh, hey Kar. I wwas about t'go get ya but I guess y'savved me th'trouble."

"Uh, yeah. Good, morning Eridan."

"Good mornin'. Did y'sleep wwell?"

"I did, actually, thank you for asking."

"That's good, that's good."

Karkat steps onto the tile, comes closer. Eridan moves to look away from him again as he does, focused on, chopping up some ginger. That's what he's doing, now that he can see. His hair isn't styled like it normally is, falls down his head in loose, messy curls, stopping just before it reaches his neck. He moves to adjust his sweater, pull the sleeve back onto his shoulder, but it slips down again as soon as he moves his hand. As he gets even closer, his skin is littered in scars, big and small alike, and there's one that dips just under his sweater that he can't see, right between his shoulder blades. It's also peppered in freckles - though he knows his face isn't, even if he doesn't quite remember it.

There's a strange, gravitation towards him, a feeling bubbling in his chest that he can't identify yet. It strengthens with every scar, every freckle that his eyes roll over, with every inch of tile he crosses. He can't act on it. He might, if he knew what it was. He wraps his arms around Eridan's stomach and Eridan flinches, freezes mid-chop, even, failing to pull the knife away from the ginger, and he stays like that until he can find it in him to feel comfortable enough to relax his tense muscles. Karkat doesn't make an effort to look past him, instead choosing to press his face into the fabric of his sweater. He's... still so cold. Will he always be this cold? If he goes to hug him, like, really hug him, will it be worse than this? Is this normal for a seadweller? Is Feferi warmer because of her blood color, or because she's somehow a mutated troll too?

He takes a deep breath in, filling his lungs with sweet, dry, salted air, of the shoreline and of the desert and of the mountains and of the forests of the tropics all at the same time. He can't identify everything and right now, he doesn't plan to. He hopes he can take it home with him. Wishes he could pack it up in a little box and carry it with him wherever he went. It's so calming. Makes him feel... excited? No, maybe energetic is the right word. Who cares? He's thinking too hard about it, enjoying it more than he should be. He manages to get himself to rip his head from its place in the fabric and lift it enough to get a good look at what's going on.

Eridan has, certainly been busy this morning.

"What's all this?" His voice is gravelly still, with how groggy he is, head slowly leaning back down on Eridan.

"Br,eakfast?"

"Cool, cool."

His hands are itching to do something else, but what? What else would they do? Would they help him with the remainder of breakfast, would they end up flailing about, would they... end up tangled in his hair? In his own hands? Or maybe they'd, end up pushing up his sweater, slipping underneath the knit and snaking up his -

Hm. That's a weird thought to have, but he brushes it off as being horny somewhere in the back of his mind. It wasn't, entirely sexual though? Eridan could be giving off some sicknasty troll pheromones that'd be messing with his head, though if he was reacting to them, it wouldn't be just _his_ pheromones. Whatever. If something weird is happening between them this morning, he hopes Eridan will brush it off as half-asleep morning vibes. The cuddles though? This, hug? He'll stand by them 100%, they were completely conscious choices and they're absolutely perfect.

Something in him spills out that he didn't know was still on his mind. "Listen Eridan, I'm, uh, I'm sorry about, about last night."

"Wwell y'don't seem t'be sick or anythin' so I figure it's okay as long as y'don't go catchin' a cold soon as you get home Kar. Wwouldn't be too good t'yourself if y'did y'knoww? An' keep yourself outta trouble you fuckin' douchenozzle or you're gonna scare the shit outta evveryone's asses. 'Specially mine Kar an' you don't wwant me t'come ovver an' scold you for doin' stupid shit do you?"

Eridan shifts slightly to half-face him, but his eyes are fixed on his own hands. No freckles on his cheeks, just as he thought. His curiosity keeps his gaze on Eridan's skin.

"I, well I guess I'm sorry for that but I actually meant the... really awkward bit where we talked."

"Oh."

Careful Karkat, don’t want a repeat of last night. Eridan leans into him as he scrapes the ginger into a bowl, filling what little space they had left between themselves. They didn’t have much, but the gap between their legs is gone. Karkat’s tongue coils in his throat, choking off any words he could have meant to say to him, any thoughts that were lingering on his lips. Speaking of, if, Eridan could turn a little more, that’d be great.

"I don't think y'really havve anythin' t'be apologizin' for Kar. I wwish I had said more 'cause I had a lotta things t'say but they wwouldn't come out I guess?"

"You did?"

"I did."

He can believe it, but he can't accept that Eridan's words would ever get lost before he could speak them. Eridan doesn't forget things; it's not in his nature. He has the moment he entered Sgrub memorized to the very second, has every birthday down that he can possibly manage (not that it's too hard, all of the alpha trolls and humans share birthdays with their beta counterparts. Still.) If he did forget them, because it's possible, it was because he was focusing on the next thing in his head, or something else he should have said. What he really should have done was say them all.

"Um, I would have loved to hear it."

"You wwoulda?"

"Yeah. If you ever end up remembering and it ends up being important we could..."

What could they do together that would address their feelings? It would have to be more casual, hopefully the proposition would feel like he meant to get closer, and still feel like he was staying out of quadrants. Not like Eridan is looking for quadrants, he simply doesn't want to confuse him.

"I think we could schedule a day to talk about, our feelings?"

That, sounds so fucking cheesy. It's what they'd be doing, it's not like he wants to do much else on days he talks about his own feelings anyway, and to have a day blocked out is so much better than things popping up when they're actually trying to hang out sometime, right?

"Like, like a feelin's jam, or...?"

"Similar to that, yeah. If you're okay with it of course!"

Eridan's head tilts to the side as he turns away from Karkat to warm the pan. The butter melts into a shallow, even pool at the bottom, an accurate representation of Karkat's grip on his feelings slipping away from him. It can't be any warmer than the pressure beneath his ribs, like a piece of clothing fresh from the dryer that promises the feeling of home and belonging. He's overly emotional today. His feelings are confusing themselves with the relief he feels from being away from home, from the weight that's been suffocating him being lifted, for a brief moment. Maybe it's the warmth between an old friendship, one he's long forgotten. The kind you get from sitting underneath the color-shifting sky with a spiced drink in hand, leaning on the side of the person next to you, fingers intertwined as everything fades to black, and then you feel the chill of the air seep through your jacket and rush back inside to get cozy again. Not, that flushed. That feels flushed. He means like the ones you get from - yet every example he comes up with fits in the flushed quadrant. Sometimes his head chases pale feelings until it convinces itself they're something more than that, like it's done with Gamzee, John, and Dave before Eridan. And to have things turn so quickly? He can't take himself seriously until he's given himself time to stew things over.

A hand devoid of the warmth he feels brushes over his knuckles, rescues him from his thoughts and he sucks in a breath. He can fill it with that warmth. He can, if he'll... If he reaches out, will he let him, do...?

Eridan's hand retracts itself at Karkat's action. Great, he's scared him away. Or, that's what he thinks, anyway, until it drifts back down to rest over Karkat's, yields to the fingers that lace themselves in it. Warmth, and touch. Contact is what he needs, and Karkat will give it to him. Karkat's other hand drifts up his stomach until it rests on the space just underneath his ribs. He hasn't, given him an answer yet, but he won't push, not at the risk of him taking this away from him, the both of them. It's perfect how it is right now. Don't, break away.

His eyes flutter as the rumbling of Eridan's chest fills his palm and courses up his arm. "I think that wwould be real nice Kar."

They stand there, still, clinging to each other for as long as they can. Any time Eridan has to grab something, Karkat moves with him, in one fluid motion that feels more like a dance between the two of them. Eridan doesn't object. The heat from the pan and from Karkat's body thaw him enough to where his joints don't pop every time they move. His thoughts settle into the silence, drift away with every breath of his scent. He almost falls to sleep, buried deep in the black fabric of his sweater, but Eridan keeps him just above the surface of unconsciousness. He doesn't mind. He doesn't want to wake up and have the moment be gone. Not when he needs it. Not when they need it, for themselves, and for what's between them.

Eridan - no, where is he going? Why did he leave? He watches intently as Eridan places things down on the table, and he reaches for something to take there, too. His hair is a lot longer than it looks, frames his face better when it's down, though it blocks Karkat's view every time he tries to look at his features. Damnit. Damn it all. One, good look is all he needs, he keeps getting distracted by the small things, like the bunching of his sleeves at the wrists of his delicate hands, or the slender silver bands wrapped around his long fingers. It's not even important things! He loses time in his own grumpiness and before he knows it the table is set and they're sitting across from each other. So, so far away. But he'll, get the chance to see him now, right? One look at his face...

He tries to get it, but it's not coming easy. He never took Eridan as the type to eat with his head down.

"I, can get Gamzee to drive me home if you need me to -"

"No Kar, I'm takin' y'home, no offense t'Gam or Sol or wwhoevver y'might contact t'pick you up but I need t'make sure you get there safe if that makes sense?"

"I get it, I get it."

The silence grows heavier the longer Eridan keeps his head down. Why? What's going on in that head of his? He could lighten it up, if they weren't so far apart.

"Kar."

"Yeah?"

His breathing, just as silent as before, wavers.

"Wwhy didn't you call me?"

Each word is a swing to the bloodpusher, static and white noise hardened by the heartbroken softness of his voice. Barely on the edge of trembling. Why didn't he call him?

"I wwoulda picked you up, you knoww that, right? My Trollian may havve been offline but I alwways havve my servvice on."

An agonizing blow, one that twists his stomach in thick, acid-filled knots. Always has his service on. _Always has his service on._ He'd given him his number before, long ago, the last time they saw each other face-to-face. He kept that paper in his jacket pocket, thumbed over the indents where his penmanship marked the material fondly. It was in there. It hadn't even been taken out for him to stare at, though he wanted to stare at it. It was such a lovely gift, even if Eridan might not think it. Something happened and the next time his hand slipped in to graze it, it was gone. He keeps his service on for the very few people who have his number. For him. For _him._ If he'd called and, he had cell service available at any time he would have, he would have answered. Ow. Ow. Ow. _Ow._ Stop burning. Stop, burning, it, it hurts!

What does he tell him? What, can he tell him? He doesn't know if he can come up with some shitty excuse, but telling the truth sounds exactly like an excuse he might have come up with. God. He should have come to him the second he lost it, instead of telling himself Trollian would be enough.

"I, don't have your number. I know you gave it to me! I wanted to put it in my phone, I really did, but I got pulled into something else and I misplaced the slip of paper. Sorry about that, Eridan..."

For some reason, it works. It's enough for things to calm down on the other side of the table. Good, good. "I wwas hopin' that wwas th'case an' that it wwasn't you bein' afraid t'call me up. D'you, wwant it still?"

"Of course." God, of course he does. He didn't even know how much he needed it until right now. Anything to have it, and yet he doesn't have to try at all.

"Here, lemme put it in your phone - unless you're more comfortable puttin' it in yourself?"

"You can put it in if it's easier!"

Eridan nods and Karkat catches a glimpse of the violet hidden in his black mop of hair, can almost see his eyes as he passes his phone to him. Their hands are together, then apart. Karkat has to keep himself from reaching for them again, or at least one of them, to hold while he puts his number in. Sometimes he does that with Gamzee while he's doing things. It's, not uncommon for people to do that. Being close is good.

"Here y'go Kar."

His phone is back in his hand, so he takes a minute to look over the contact info. There it is. He can feel the indent of every number in the tips of his fingers as he flicks his eyes past them, feel the way Eridan wrote it in his neat handwriting. He won't forget it this time. He'll take the time to dial it out as long as there's not an emergency. He also takes a moment to look at his contact name, then changes it to something that fits him better. Eridan is, well, it's his name, but he goes by the feelings people elicit when he looks at their messages. He'll find a photo later, maybe take one.

"Thanks." Thank god, it's finally his. "Um, do you want mine too?"

"I, wwell I figure I'll get it wwhen y'contact me -"

BullshIT. "I want you to have mine in case you need to contact me sooner, or, if you want to. You don't have to limit your calls and texts to emergencies, Eridan."

Please don't limit them, Eridan. He wants to hear from you as much as the two of you get the chance to talk to each other.

"... Okay."

Eridan hands him his own phone - thin, and sleek, lightweight too. It only takes a moment or two to fill his contact information in, but he lingers over the page a little longer. What can he add? There's not much to add, no place to give him a little note. Damnit. This will have to do.

He passes it back to him, purposefully cups his hands in his to warm them up a little. It won't hurt. "There. It should be under 'Kar' since that's what you tend to call me."

"D'you not like that Kar - uh, Karkat?"

"No, I like it."

"Y'sure? I mean y'brought it up like it wwasn't your favvorite -"

"No, I was only telling you so it was easier for you to find me, don't worry, Eridan. If I hated it I would have told you already."

"Okay Kar, just checkin' is all."

"I know. Thank you for checking, no one else seems to do that."

Karkat's mind runs as he eats. He wonders what he'll send him first. Maybe a meme? Or like, ten of them. You can never go wrong with memes, unless, Eridan isn't the type of person who's into internet culture? No, he's always kept himself up enough to get the basics. He could send him a video of some stupid shit that's happening around him, or of him failing to do yet another task. He, should probably wait until he goes to text him. He'll figure it out later.

He thinks Eridan's hair is cute like this, he really does, and with the way his sweater is pushed down, it makes him look like he's been - nevermind, he won't think about it. He'd take it to keep as his contact photo, if only he could _see his fucking face._ Look at him. Look at him, Eridan, or he's gonna fucking go insane.

"By th'way you're not allowed ovver here again unless you're travvelin' by car or else I'll wwhoop your ass Kar d'y'hear me?"

Oh, right. He's still worried about him, isn't he? "Got it. Sorry Eridan." Damn right he's got it, he's stupid but he's not stupid enough to pull the same stupid shit over and over again.

"It's fine. Felt like I'vve said this before but I had t'say it again anywway just t'make sure y'knoww?"

"Yeah, I know."

They finish up and wash dishes together, put food away, drifting closer even when they have to break away to move around and tidy things up. They bump hips when they pass by. They lean against each other when they put things in the fridge. Somehow, they fail to interrupt the workflow, moving as a collective to get everything done. When the kitchen is finished, Eridan grabs Karkat's clothes, all neatly folded, and they're off to get dressed. He would have been okay with leaving them over. He could have come home in his pajamas, it would have given him an excuse to come back and do this again. He changes, then attempts to fold them like Eridan had folded his clothes. They, end up pretty lumpy, actually. He usually shoves his clothes in the drawer after they're done drying, because his lusus was a literal crab and can you imagine claws on fabric? He never learned to fold himself, but crumpled clothing is better than no clothing.

Eridan is so put together. Hair gelled back like it normally is, clean and neat button up, slacks, too. He's tying his tie as Karkat approaches and that's when he gets a good look.

Shit, his eyes. They're, more vibrant than he thought they'd be.

"You ready Kar?"

He can barely fucking breathe. He grasps at straws, stumbling over his thoughts for a response when it's right in front of him, goddamnit, he's done this shit so many times before why is it hard? "Yeah, let's go - wait do I have my clothes?"

"They're on you, Kar."

"Right, right. Let me, make sure..."

Eridan rolls his eyes as Karkat pats at himself like the fucking idiot he is, grabs him a coat from the rack and drapes it over his shoulders. Karkat doesn't notice, only pulls it on.

"Okay, ready."

They get in the car and Eridan hands him a to-go cup. Of, what - coffee. Coffee, of course. He takes a moment to sit and breathe it in, letting the heat color his cheeks. Long enough for Eridan to reach over and put his seatbelt on for him, which makes him feel like a total wriggler, and to make things worse, he's almost pinned under him for a moment as he does it. Stupid, bloodpusher, doing things he doesn't want it to do. Stupid face turning all red like a fucking tomato. He hates tomatoes.

Eridan sips at his cup for another second or two and then he turns the car on, drives out of the mountains and onto the city road. Karkat, won't be able to stay awake the whole drive, but does he have to? It's hours of sleep he could be having. He snuggles into his seat and it's only then that he realizes he smells exactly how he wants to smell, feels the heater on his legs calm his inflamed tissues. With Eridan driving, he feels comfortable enough to close his eyes, even as the sun shines into them.

* * *

"So you talk to Dirk now? How's he been doing? I haven't heard anything about him from Dave lately."

He's been awake for the past seventeen minutes, coffee now cold, though he can still drink it. He doesn't know how long he was asleep, Eridan won't tell him. It wasn't too long, he says. The next town is only eight minutes away, he says. Which town? He can't remember which one, he doesn't drive through this area of Washington often, he says. Lies. Lies upon lies, because he catches the next town on a road sign. Fucking Rockdale? Really? He's been out of it for almost half their drive. After they hit Rockdale it's another two hours of driving and then that's it. He's been catching up with him the best he can, giving him some chatter so he'll stay awake and so he can get to know him a little better, of course. Eridan does most of the talking, when he gets going, which is fine with Karkat.

"Oh, that's because he's been figurin' out howw t'livve by himself again. He left their shared apartment 'cause Davve's music wwould get in th'wway a'his vvideos an' Dirk's vvideos meant Davve couldn't record his music or be out in a room at th'same time 'cause he didn't wwanna be in 'em. It wwas kinda hard for the both a'them t'keep evverythin' in their tiny little rooms ovver in their Austin apartment. They had a good relationship, don't get me wwrong! They'vve been so much better wwith each other than they'vve evver been alone. It's been hard on Dirk. He doesn't like livvin' alone."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. But he's doin' a real great job I think! He movved a little further awway from Davve but I think he's a feww states closer t'us noww?. He's got himself a wwhole house, too. He's thinkin' a'makin' it into some wweird pad, wwhich isn't bad but I mean it's Dirk."

"Have you... heard anything about him and Jake? From either of them?" Karkat shivers, and Eridan pulls a blanket out from the back to drape over him, clicks his tongue as he thinks of what to say next. He scrunches his eyebrows in a unique way when he's thinking. It's cute.

"That's... not my business. But wwhen he talks about it on his owwn accord he, gets real sad. Doesn't talk for days. That's wwhat causes most a'th'gaps in our convversation, I think. He thinks about him a lot, I knoww he does, he's told me so an' that's not the only wway I knoww, either! He'll be talkin' excitedly about this project he's wworkin' on or wwhat he's plannin' t'do next in his life an' then he'll start t'get slowwer wwith his messages an' then he's talkin' about Jake an' wwonderin' howw he's doin' cause, they wwere real close y'knoww? An' all'a'th'sudden they wweren't close anymore. Like, they havven't talked in forevver Kar. An' he misses that. Evven if he couldn't be his, he could at least be his best friend. They might not evven be friends anymore. I don't knoww wwhat happened t'them. He hasn't told me. Maybe they just movved apart or somethin'."

Eridan bites at his lips, grazes his sharp teeth over them. His, full, plump lips, that glisten slightly in the light. He's going to bruise them, or cut them open, or, something, they look too soft to handle the edge, look like they'll give to him and his teeth will sink right in. The way his tongue flicks behind them has Karkat's full attention. He promises he's listening. He promises he's only looking because he's curious.

"All he wwants is t'knoww howw he's doin'. If he's happy. He wwants t'sit dowwn an' get some closure wwith him an' at least say a last goodbye before they movve on wwith their livves."

The way, his tongue flicks between his teeth with every loll, every 'L' sound. Dangerously flirting with being scraped into, almost a licking motion that has Karkat shivering again. Eridan piles another blanket onto him.

"An' I hope he gets that. I hope they both get that, 'specially since I knoww that Jake must miss him too, regardless a'wwhat happened."

He's right. He doesn't know much about Jake compared to the other kids, but he does know that he misses Dirk. He's heard him on the phone with Jade before, picked up that small bit of crucial conversation he wasn't supposed to know about. He's pretended like he regrets nothing. He's given his all to losing himself in the adrenaline rush, the speed of the chase, the crunch of his feet as they propel him forward. They all know better. Them being apart from each other has taken its toll, and now no one sees either of them because they can't bring themselves to talk to anyone if they can't talk to each other. But, hold on, now. He's forgetting something.

"Don't you talk to all of the alpha kids though?"

"Yeah, but I talk t'Jake th'least. Sometimes Dirk wwill ask howw he's doin' an' I rarely havve a reply for him. I don't go into specifics on account'a doin' my best t'respect Jake's privvacy, if he's goin' outta his wway t'avvoid Dirk, but I tell him that I'vve at least heard from him. Sometimes it's all he needs to hear. Just that he's okay. That he's still kickin'."

"You haven't heard anything about them from Jake?"

"No." Keeping up with his isolated freedom in all respects, isn't he? "He doesn't contact me for long. He's alwways off advventurin' somewwhere an' doin' wwhat makes him happy, t'a certain extent, at least. He's asked about Dirk once or twwice though. It's nevver if he misses him, or about wwhat or howw he's doin', it's alwways about wwhether or not he still talks t'anyone."

"What does that mean?"

"I dunno, an' it's really not my business t'speculate, but I think that maybe he wwishes he could talk t'him too. I think there's some boundary in his owwn head that he's gotta get ovver before he can take th'leap t'do that, an' I think Dirk's got a little growwin' t'do before they can really havve the talk they're both lookin' for. Dirk's almost there, though. I'm placing my bet on Jake that it'll take him another year, if not longer. I'm hopin' on less than a year."

He shouldn't worry about it, none of them should be sticking their noses in it. He can't help himself. Seeing how love breaks two people so easily has him craving every detail, craving some resolution to their suffering. Neither of them have moved on, truly. They can't. There's something about the two of them that belongs together, and anyone else who thinks they might have a handle on either of them is in for a fucking nightmare, because they aren't people who take kindly to someone pulling in the reigns. They're perfect complements, the only two elements that can reach towards each other from so far away. He doesn't doubt that, that _thing,_ whatever it is, still appears out of nowhere when Jake is thinking about Dirk. He's only seen it once but _fuck,_ dude.

It all has him thinking. Not like he wasn't thinking before, of course, but thinking about something else.

"Hey."

"Yeah Kar?"

"Are, you happier now? With the way things are, I mean."

Some part of him shuts off, just like last night on the couch, when he was turned away from him, for a moment, and then a moment longer. He manages to pull himself away. Good, good. He's sorry he caused that but, he. He wants to know. He should be happy. He deserves to be happy.

"I..."

Another long pause. He's fixed on the road, hands gripping at the steering wheel hard enough for his knuckles to pop. The sound is like he's shattering his hands. It's fucking terrifying, but it's not a grip of anger. He can tell.

"I dunno, Kar, I don't like t'think about it."

"I, I can drop it but can I ask later? When you've had time to think about it?"

"I think that'd be okay, yeah. Maybe savve it for a wwhile out."

"Yeah."

The tension melts away and Eridan places a hand over the lid of his cup. Karkat places his own cup down, but moves his hand over Eridan's, moving the pads of his fingers over his knuckles and the soft skin on the back. His skin isn't as thin as he thought it was. It's pleasantly quiet between them for, who knows how long, as the sun hides behind the clouds and blinds the sky with white light. Everything is white, and cold, except for the road, and everything about the car. It turns darker as delicate snow begins to fall, coat everything with a thin, fresh layer. Eridan keeps his thoughts at bay, until Karkat shifts uncomfortably when he sees another road sign.

"You talk to Cronus too, huh?"

"'Course I do. Wwe kinda only had each other t'talk to for a long wwhile. He's changed a lot, he's learned t'quit hittin' on evverybody he knowws but it's a little too late because no one evver really talks to him either. He's also the primary reason I keep my cell servvice on on long trips 'cause he's my emergency contact. He's kinda like a human older brother, only wwe don't see each other in person as often as wwe'd like to. He does livve in Spokane county an' wwe get together at least once a month if wwe can manage it. I get t'see Kri too, but he's still wwarmin' up t'me."

"Wait wait wait, Kankri? What the fuck do you mean, Kankri?"

"Wwhaddya mean, 'wwhat the fuck do you mean Kankri?' Did, you not knoww?"

"Know what?!"

"Wwell it's not my business t'tell you then but Kar, if you're that outta loop, y'should consider talkin' t'him sometime, I'm sure he'd like a better relationship wwith you anywway."

"What the hell do you mean out of loop? People tell me everything even if I don't want to know!"

"Not Kri or Cro, apparently. They manage t'keep things t'themselvves pretty wwell as long as they knoww wwhether or not they wwanna keep things to themselvves. They're also not spoutin' evveryone else's gossip evverywwhere like some sorta fuckin' garbage juice sprinkler. I mean I guess I shouldn't be sayin' anythin' at all but Cro is the only real friend I'vve got 'sides you an' you barely havve th'time t'talk t'me. Dirk is gettin' closer though, I just havven't hung out wwith him yet."

God, he hasn't even been talking to Dirk that long. What kind of bullshit friend does Karkat have to be for his ANCESTOR to talk to him more often than he does? Jesus fucking - "You said Kankri told you happy birthday huh? I mean he tells everyone happy birthday but does that mean you talk to him?"

"Wow Kar you sure do ask about people a lot." It's, a habit. "I do. He's not too fond a'me yet but he doesn't hate me an' he's tryin' t'put forth the effort in havvin' a closer relationship wwith me considerin' things. He's wwary of me due to things he's heard from Fef or Sol or Kan, though. Or anyone really. He's really swweet, an' though he doesn't like me much he cares about me. More than I can say for a lotta others, an' it's not like they'vve got it wwrong in their heads."

No, nono, they _are_ wrong, they have been for a long while, if they weren't wrong before.

"Hey."

"Yeah?"

"I care about you."

Eridan gives half of a chuckle and half of a cough, moving his hand to pat Karkat's shoulder. "I knoww. You, kinda told me that already, an' I don't think anyone wwho didn't givve a shit wwould pull that crazy movve you decided t'pull yesterday."

"Are you sure you know?"

"Wwell y'either care about me or y'just wwanna look good in front'a evveryone else an' wwanna look like 'the better person' or play your role as a mediator an' wwhile you'vve definitely done the twwo latter things before you'vve alwways been upfront and honest wwith me about howw you're feelin' as long as y'can manage t'say it. But..."

The cut-off lingers sourly in Karkat's ears. There's nothing good about that 'but' and he can feel it, he can taste it. What does he mean? What does he mean, 'but'? He has doubts, or he's hiding something he's been thinking about for a while, or he's thinking of a good way to break some god-awful news to Karkat. Karkat's chewing on his nails.

"Nevvermind. It's not important right now."

A sigh of relief, and Karkat readjusts Eridan's hand so his palm is resting against his, squeezes it tighter. 

"I'm kinda hungry."

"Really? Wwe’re about twwenty minutes awway from your place, Kar."

That is _not what he wants to hear that is very unpleasant he does not like that hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm._

Eridan sighs. "Wwell, I can get y'somethin' t'eat before I drop you off then? Wwhere wwould you wwanna go? Do you prefer drivve through or goin' in?"

A smile from Karkat, he pulls Eridan's arm into his. "Drive through. And Mcdonald's?"

"Kar as popular as Mcdonald's is I think you're makin' a huge mistake seein' as evverythin' there is absolute garbage."

"Goddamnit Eridan I'm craving some fucking chicken nuggets take me to Mcdonald's!"

"Kar howw about, like, a coffee shop instead dear lord I can barely stand the fuckin' rank ass stench of that godawwful trash hole."

Karkat chants, giggling a little bit as he does because frankly they're both being silly. "Mcdonald's! Mcdonald's!"

Eridan laughs too. Hell yes. Hell, fucking yes. "Fine! I guess I can't say no if it's wwhat you really wwant but don't be breathin' that fuckin' garbage in my face."

"Hell yes Mcdonald's"

He drives into the nearest one, clearly not happy with having to even be there but he's doing it for Karkat so he's okay with it, he can tell. The dude at the window looks hella confused as to why there's a weird ass troll in the front seat until he sees past Eridan and looks at Karkat. Karkat knows this cashier. This cashier knows Karkat. Karkat is a regular here, he's here at least three days a week, if not four. One time he went to Mcdonald's for every meal, for eight days, straight, and every single day that week, every time of day, this cashier was there to take his order. This cashier knows what Karkat looks like at one AM. This cashier can see into his soul.

Eridan turns to ask _the_ question just as the cashier gives Karkat a 'who the hell is this guy?' stare. "Alright Kar wwhaddya wwant?"

"Gimme gimme chicken nugget."

His face flushes violet, half out of embarrassment and half out of his struggle to keep himself from laughing at Karkat's goblin likeness. "K, Kar ohmygod wwhat size an' do y'wwant anythin' else?"

"I want a 20 piece chicken nugget and a large iced tea."

"Cool gimme a moment to relay."

Only he doesn't have to relay. The cashier gives them a thumbs up and goes to grab him his order before Eridan can say anything. He knows what he wants. He has it prepped and ready for this moment. Eridan is like 'where did he go?' but then the cashier gets back and Eridan is like 'oh I see'. He pays, and then he's handed the goods.

"Here you are sir, have a good day."

"You too."

Eridan hands Karkat his food and then drives out of there. The cashier smirks. He has won, today, and Karkat only knows why when he goes to take a sip of his drink.

"ACK! THEY GAVE ME SPRITE!!! GOD THAT FUCKING B U R N S LIKE HELL JESUS LORD I FUCKING HATE SPRITE"

The tissues burn in all the worst ways. His throat sears at the carbonated bubbles combined with the sugar and the, the _lemon lime._ The lemon. Lime. The worst, flavor, to combine a carbonated soft drink with, because the citrus will end you. And the cashier knows this. He's gotten his order wrong before.

"Oh no Kar I'm so sorry d'you need me t'turn th'car around an' get y -"

"No I'll, deal with it." He did this to make him look like a pansy. Well you know what? He won't have it. He's going to sit here and take his Sprite like a fucking champ and there's nothing the cashier can do about it because he's not going to get the satisfaction of seeing him back at that Mcdonald's today. Obama would be proud of his bravery, if he wasn't so incredibly prideful about it already.

"Kar are you sure 'cause if you wwant me t'just drivve in there an' order you another iced - is it because it wwould be awwkwward"

"Yeah"

"Okay that's a mood let's go."

Maybe he should have gone back, though, because that would have meant more time with Eridan. The last few minutes of driving through the neighborhood squeeze at his heart, remind him of all of the shit he's about to return to. It's probably worse now that he's been gone. He doesn't have to worry about it in the car. Not while he's eating his food, at least, but the anxiety makes him finish it quickly, so he can't sit in the car to eat once they get home. Fuck. Fuck. He should talk to his friends about things so he can rid himself of everything but whenever he tries to they come at him with more shit and then they leave before he can say anything! He'll do it one day.

They pull up in his driveway. It's final, then. He can't stay there, and he won't see Eridan for at least another day, if not longer, won't be able to talk to him until he makes it home. The turning of his keys snaps at little parts of him. He can't bring himself to unbuckle his seatbelt until Eridan is already halfway there. He's not letting him do it for him.

"Here y'are Kar. Y'better take care a'yourself or I'll havve'ta drivve dowwn here an' take care a'you myself."

"You should make good on that sometime."

"Ww, Wwell maybe I wwill."

Please. "Good."

"Good. I'll, stay here an' wwatch y'till y'get in th'house so I knoww you'vve made it in safe. The neighborhood may be good but there's no wway I'm not makin' sure."

"Alright. Uh. Bye, Eridan."

"See ya Kar."

His heart wrenches as he pulls his hand away from his, closes the door behind him. Every step towards his door is heavy. He can't help looking behind him, though he knows he shouldn't. He waves. He goes in. And he makes good on his word, because he doesn't see him leave the driveway until he's looking out the window. He goes, and goes, and then disappears behind the bend.

He should have asked him to stay.

His grumpy demeanor returns to him as he trashes his garbage in his overflowing trash can. There's blankets strewn across his floor. His fridge has no gatorade, his pantry has no coffee, and the only food he has is chips and a few boxes of crackers. Dirty laundry, on his couch, because he couldn't be bothered to change in his room. He has to get started on some housework, asap, but not before he...

Checks...

His, Trollian, why did he open his Trollian dear god, he's flooded with notifications, and when he looks back at them, there's over _FIVE HUNDRED OF THEM._ He was gone for a day. A d a y . Can no one take care of their own shit for a fucking day? Would it have been the same if he went on vacation? He only checks on the most recent ones, because fuck everything else.

arsenicCatnip [AC] began pestering  carcinoGeneticist [CG]

AC: :33 < *AC curls up on her pile of very fluffy furs and waits for Karkitty to return...*

AC: :33 < *AC wonders if Karkitty is pawsibly free sometime later this week?*

AC: :33 < *AC decides to ask Karkitty if he would like to have fun with AC and her beautiful matesprit if he is free!*

AC: :33 < *AC falls asleep while waiting but will awaken if poked or pestered!*

arsenicCatnip [AC] ceased pestering  carcinoGeneticist [CG]

That's all Nepeta has sent him, and he's grateful for that. He'll send her something as soon as he has a schedule filled out. Onto the next person.

twinArmageddons [TA] began pestering  carcinoGeneticist [CG]

TA: KK where the fuck diid you go and why won't clownface tell me anythiing goddamniit you dii2appeared 2o fa2t

TA: whatever. a2 long a2 you're not dead or 2ome 2hiit liike that iit'2 fiine. ju2t talk two me about iit later iif you feel liike iit

TA: whiich remiind2 me ii need 2ome help wiith FF when you have the tiime? ii know ii 2houldn't alway2 be comiing two you for thii2 kiind of thiing but

TA: well ii gue22 you'll fiind out when you talk two me. iif you can

TA: iit'2 nothiing bad of cour2e ii ju2t need your opiiniion on 2omethiing

TA: thank2 KK ii hope you're doiing okay

twinArmageddons [TA] ceased pestering  carcinoGeneticist [CG]

There's other messages that don't fucking matter right now, though if Sollux was texting him non-stop he could have had something else he wanted to talk about. He'll check in with him later, and make sure they have at least an hour or two to talk about whatever it is he needs to. Next.

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] began pestering  carcinoGeneticist [CG]

GA: As I Have Been Informed That You Are Away Tonight I Do Not Expect You To Answer Immediately Or Anytime In The Near Future Should You Choose To Take An Extended Absence

GA: Though There Is Something That Has Been Nipping At My Mind Lately That I Wish To Discuss With You

GA: It Concerns My Position Within Feferi's Quadrants

GA: I Do Not Wish To Bother You With My Matters Of Course As I Firmly Believe That All Things Concerning Relationships Should Stay Within Relationships And That If Something Must Be Done The Only Way To Achieve Doing It Is Through Communication

GA: It Is Simply That Feferi Does Not Wish To Communicate With Me At The Moment

GA: And I Need Your Advice As To What The Next Course Of Action Should Be

GA: I Am Not Very Good At Coming Off As Approachable And Do Not Know How Long I Should Wait Before I Talk To Her About This

GA: I Do Hope You Are Doing Well In Your Own Quadrants And That You Are Safe And Out Of Harm's Way

GA: I Will See You Later Karkat

grimAuxiliatrix [GA] ceased pestering  carcinoGeneticist [CG]

Great. Feferi's garbage attitude again. He's not looking forward to this, but Kanaya needs his help if she's stepping around eggshells with Karkat. He'll give her extra time, but she'll probably only use ten or twenty minutes of his day, knowing her.

He decides to give himself a break to get things done before he checks the next one. Throws some dirty laundry in the wash, vacuums his floor and his couch, takes the trashes out. There's so many gatorade bottles all around his house, it's actually concerning. Then he builds some of his grocery list, before remembering he actually has to check the next one sometime.

gallowsCalibrator [GC] began pestering  carcinoGeneticist [CG]

GC: K4RKL3S WH3R3 1N TH3 FUCK D1D YOU RUN OFF TO

GC: W3 H4D 1MPORT4NT 3RR4NDS TO RUN TOD4Y

GC: 1T 1S ENT1R3LY POSS1BL3 TH4T YOU'R3 4SL33P BUT G4MZ33 G4V3 M3 TH3 1MPR3SS1ON TH4T YOU H4D GL34N3D 4 R1D3 FROM ON3 OF OUR OTH3R FR13NDS TO GO SOM3WH3R3 H3 H4S D3C1D3D NOT TO D1SCLOS3 TO M3 FOR R34SONS UNKNOWN

GC: 4ND 1 H4V3 B33N TRY1NG TO 3XTR4CT TH3 1NFORM4T1ON FROM H1M

GC: SO H4RD >:(

GC: H3 1S L1K3 4N 1NP3N1TR4BL3 W4LL OF BR41N SUCKL1NG STUP1D1TY AND UNDY1NG LOY4LTY 4ND 4LSO H3 H4T3S M3 4 L1TTL3 B1T

GC: BUT NOT 3NOUGH TO F41L TO 3NSUR3 TH4T 1 KNOW OF YOUR WH3R34BOUTS ON D4YS W3 H4D PL4NS TO G3T 1MPORT4NT BUS1N3SS DON3 ON!

GC: SO 1 DO NOT TH1NK 1 L1K3 WH4T3V3R 1T 1S H3 1S H1D1NG FROM M3

GC: UNL3SS OF COURS3 1T TURNS OUT YOU 4R3 BOTH PL4Y1NG SOM3 SORT OF 3LABOR4T3 PR4NK ON M3

GC: 1F TH4T 1S TH3 C4S3 1 4M H4PPY TO B3 PR4NK3D 4ND YOU'LL H4V3 SOM3TH1NG W41T1NG FOR YOU WH3N YOU R3TURN >:)

GC: PR3P4R3 YOUR 4SS K4RKL3S 1 W1LL B3 CONSULT1NG 4 M4ST3R OF TH3 CR4FT 1N ORD3R TO ON3-UP YOU

GC: 1 W1LL W1N TH1S B4TTL3 >:) YOU W1LL NOT 3M3RG3 V1CTOR1OUS >:) 4ND 3V3N 1F YOU H4PP3N TO DO SO 1 4M TH3 L4W 4ND YOU W1LL B3 SHOWN NO M3RCY

GC: >:) SL33P W1TH ON3 3Y3 OP3N K4RKL3S

gallowsCalibrator [GC] ceased pestering  carcinoGeneticist [CG]

Oh yeah, he forgot about that... He should probably go and take care of that right now, he'll be able to get his grocery shopping done too -

...

His thumb runs over an unfamiliar texture. He was, about to pull his sweater off and change into something different, though he didn't have to. He pats at it. Weather-repellent fabric, puffy, layered... there's a zipper. How, how? What? What is this?

He unzips it, pulls it off his shoulders and holds it, in front of -

Oh, mygod it's his jacket. How the fuck did he get this? Did he snatch it from a rack absentmindedly? Wouldn't he have noticed earlier? Wouldn't Eridan have said something about it, too, if he'd done that? Hhho it smells so good. He, might take this with him, then, as long as he still has it... I mean, there's not much he can do about it now, right?

carcinoGeneticist [CG] began pestering  caligulasAquarium [CA]

CG: HEY ERIDAN I KNOW YOU DROPPED ME OFF AN HOUR AGO AND BY THE TIME YOU LOOK AT THIS YOU'LL BE BACK HOME ANYWAY

CG: BUT I FORGOT TO GIVE YOU YOUR COAT BACK

CG: I GUESS IT'S A LITTLE HARD TO REMEMBER YOU'RE WEARING SOMETHING? I DON'T KNOW. I DON'T ACTUALLY KNOW HOW I GOT IT IN THE FIRST PLACE EITHER I JUST KIND OF WENT TO TAKE MY SWEATER OFF AND THERE IT WAS?

CG: SO UM

CG: NEXT TIME WE HANG OUT I'LL HAVE IT FOR YOU OKAY?

CG: DRIVE SAFE

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased pestering  caligulasAquarium [CA]

Shit, he should have texted him. Next time, or he, here. He'll text him. It only takes a minute of his time, after all. There. Much better. He, should also call Gamzee - oh?

terminallyCapricious [TC] began pestering  carcinoGeneticist [CG]

TC: HeY mOtHeRfUcKeR yOu On YoUr WaY bAcK yEt?

CG: GOT HOME A WHILE AGO AND MEANT TO TEXT YOU AS SOON AS I WAS IN THE DOOR BUT I'M LOOKING THROUGH EVERYONE'S PESTERLOGS THEY LEFT ME

CG: GOD THERE'S SO MANY

CG: EVERYONE LIKES TO RIDE UP MY ASS ALL THE TIME

CG: I'M WALKING AROUND WITH BRUISES UP MY FUCKING INSIDES FROM ALL OF THE CONSTANT ASS FUCKING THEY DO GAMZEE

TC: I kNoW wHaT yOu MeAn My MoThErFuCkEr. YoU'rE gOnE fOr TwO fUcKiN hOuRs AnD eVeRyOnE iS aSkIn WhErE iN tHe MoThErFuCk YoU'vE gOnE

TC: LiKe DaMn. ChIlL. i WaItEd UnTiL tHe FoUr HoUr MaRk To BoThEr YoU

TC: I wAs HeLlA fUcKiN wOrRiEd ThOuGh

TC: TaVrOs MaNaGeD tO kEeP mE cAlM fOr A wHiLe

TC: He'S sO sWeEt. I'm So DaMn LuCkY tO hAvE hIm

CG: YEAH HE'S A PRETTY COOL DUDE. TELL HIM I APPRECIATE IT

CG: I'M SORRY I WORRIED YOU LIKE THAT GAMZEE

CG: I JUST KINDA SAW HIS TROLLIAN AND I FUCKING PANICKED LIKE THE WRIGGLER STEWING IN MY OWN PISS AND OTHER BODILY FLUIDS THAT I AM

CG: AND I HAD TO DO SOMETHING BEFORE MY FUCKING THINKPAN EXPLODED WITH ALL OF MY BRAIN JUICES. THOSE BRAIN JUICES WOULD HAVE BEEN EVERYWHERE. WOULD HAVE STAINED THE WALLS AND THE FLOORS AND SEEPED INTO EVERY LITTLE NASTY CRACK OF MY HUMAN HOUSE

CG: CAN YOU EVEN IMAGINE THE CLEANUP GAMZEE

CG: SOME POOR ASSHAT HAVING TO SCRAPE MY FUCKING GRAY MATTER OFF THE WALL GAMZEE

TC: It WoUlD sMeLl MoThErFuCkIn AwFuL bRo

TC: I wOuLd CrY

TC: I gEt WhY yOu MoThErFuCkIn DiD iT bUt YoU cOuLd HaVe WaItEd UnTiL i WaS mOtHeRfUcKiN fReE bRo Or YoU cOuLd HaVe TaKeN tHe MoThErFuCkIn TiMe To CaLl SoMeOnE eLsE

TC: ThEy WoUlD hAvE bEeN tHeRe In TeN mInUtEs BrO

TC: PlEaSe KaRbRo UsE yOuR mOtHeRfUcKiN bRaIn

CG: DON'T WORRY I WILL NEXT TIME OKAY?

CG: HE WON'T EVEN LET ME COME OVER THERE AGAIN UNLESS SOMEONE IS DRIVING ME OR I HAVE MY OWN CAR

CG: AND I DON'T WANNA GET MY ASS CHEWED INTO LIKE I DID

CG: IT WAS FUCKING HEART-WRENCHING GAMZEE

CG: GOD I'M SO FUCKING STUPID

TC: It'S aLl CoOl NoW bRo

TC: I mEaN tHiNgS aRe AlL gOoD nOw RiGhT?

CG: YEAH

CG: I MEAN I THINK SO. MAYBE?

CG: WE TALKED ABOUT IT FOR A BIT BUT MAYBE WE DIDN'T TALK FOR LONG ENOUGH

CG: I'LL HAVE A CHANCE TO TALK TO HIM LATER AND I GUESS I'LL BRING IT UP THEN BECAUSE I DON'T REALLY WANT TO LEAVE HIM WITH TOO MUCH TO LOOK AT WHEN HE GETS HOME

CG: THAT'D BE EMBARRASSING. I'D SEEM SO DESPERATE LIKE HOLY FUCK

TC: WhY tHe HeLl ArE yOu MoThErFuCkIn WoRrIeD aBoUt LoOkIn DeSpErAtE nOw AfTeR aLl Of ThAt?

CG: I

CG: DON'T KNOW

TC: Do YoU hAvE fEeLiNgS tO wOrK tHrOuGh KaRbRo?

CG: MAYBE?

CG: I THINK I'LL WAIT ON A FEELINGS JAM FOR A WHILE SO I CAN SORT MY THOUGHTS OUT ON MY OWN BUT IF IT GETS TO THE POINT WHERE I NEED SOME HELP WITH THEM I'LL TELL YOU OKAY? I CAN'T RESIST A GOOD FEELINGS JAM BUT I NEED TO LET MY MIND SIT FOR A BIT ON THIS

TC: AlRiGhT bRo

TC: TeLl Me WhEn YoUr ScHeDuLe Is FrEe CaUsE i WaNt To HaNg ThE fUcK oUt BrO

CG: I'LL DO THAT. I GUESS I KIND OF HAVE TO BUILD A SCHEDULE NOW BECAUSE I THOUGHT I HAD TIME OFF BUT I CAN NEVER FUCKING GET A BREAK CAN I

TC: YeAh MoThErFuCkEr I gEt ThAt FeEl

CG: THANKS FOR UNDERSTANDING GAMZEE. TALK TO YOU LATER OKAY?

TC: HeLl YeAh

TC: <>

CG: <>

terminallyCapricious [TC] ceased pestering  carcinoGeneticist [CG]

Yeah. Feelings to work through, huh? He'll do that later tonight.

Karkat puts, Eridan's, jacket on, heaves in his scent to get him through the day, and decides to text Terezi for a ride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I initially felt uninspired for this chapter, it took me a lot longer to start than I like to admit. But I think I got further into the flow of things as I decided what they were going to talk about in the car. I do all of the dialogue first and then write around it, if that makes sense, so when I can't figure out what the hell they're going to say to each other I fall flat immediately, even if I know what I want them to be doing and interacting with. It's easier to write around dialogue. It's not easy to add dialogue into a scene you've already written. Also if you don't have any inspiration? Throw in some DirkJake. Always throw in some of that Soul-Soothing Ultra-Gayness. Sorry it was almost a week late though, I was pretty much out of it the entire time.
> 
> I've also been losing more sleep lately so I took about a day and a half to really nap it up before I came back to this chapter, I think it really helped. I sometimes sit there with my screen on just staring, but I don't do anything, because I can't think of anything to do. I needed that Good Sleep. I hope you guys are getting good sleep, and drinking lots of water, and eating some good food. Don't forget to encourage yourselves to do important things that need to get done. I know you can do it!
> 
> Interesting fact: Looked up Jake's chumhandle right? Well of course you all know this but my dumb ass didn't know Golgotha meant (Place of the) Skull in Aramaic and is an actual hill just outside of Jerusalem. Of fucking course his nerdy ass did that. Fuckin' bastard
> 
> I'm so eager to just write some damn porn at this point but this is a fucking slowburn so unless I write a character jacking off there's not gonna be porn for at least another 7 chapters if not closer to 14 more chapters fucking hell why do I do this to myself
> 
> I can put whatever I want in these. It's perfect. You don't have to read them and I get a place to put all of the stupid shit that's going through my head so I can clear it and get back to writing
> 
> Me @ this chapter: Make it Gay  
> Me @ myself: Bitch where's the slowburn  
> Me @ myself: BITCH IT I S SLOWBURN IT HAS TO B U R N  
> Me @ myself: Aha yeah I forgot my dude. Whatever floats your goat. Bungles your bangles, my good dude
> 
> My dog put his head on my hands and keyboard while I was writing because he wanted my attention. He also gave me kisses all over my face. I had to clean my glasses afterward AND I had to work with my dog's head, on my hand. ;-;
> 
> Edit on the unfortunate date of 9/11/19: Changed the locations of the Striders from Washington to Texas, because that's actually very important to something I'm planning, so if you're reading this again and you're like "Wait what the fuck" that's why


	8. Midnight Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eridan fixes his shed.

It all comes to a halt.

His fingers cease to glide along the keys of his laptop, fail to paint the picture of his heart. They had been flowing so wonderfully-the feelings he had been feeling, the ones that burned themselves into the fibrous strands of his muscles, those that had been dragging his weight till it collapsed in this very chair, those that paralyze him. They were fluid, languid, even, lifting easily off his ever-tightening shoulders. Enough to be spilling out in tears. Enough for him to be here now, hurrying to fill the cup with them before they filled his chest. If it were to overflow, that would be fine, as long as he kept something in. Anything at all, enough for him to drink from later, when they left him void of even the slightest of tingling in his fingertips. They wanted to be worked with. He made the effort, he let them speak for themselves, sitting and feeling and observing along with them.

And then, they did it. They froze up between his joints, pooled and dripped over his insides to coat them, only to trap them in solid ice when the wind blew through him. Now, his hands are stiff. Any movement at all, and they threaten to snap off, or crackle and spill out over his keyboard, like useless glowsticks. There's no end. There's no end to them, is there? He's stuck with them for as long as his miserable, pseudo-immortal life crawls on, and they'll keep dishing out empty threats to end it for him. How can he do anything when they love to cripple and destroy all that he has left to work with?

Whatever. They can pull at his skin until the bags of his eyes grow heavy and dark, but they won't claim him. They can dig their talons into his ankles and pierce holes in his fragile body, and he'll do the same to their pathetic, disgusting gums, and wrench their jaws from their skulls, and crush them under his frail hands with the unadulterated force of his anger-filled spite. What have they ever done to deserve anything less than his rage, after all? He's given them enough time to settle down, to repent. They've dug their graves. They can lie down in them, and he'll take the harpoon gun hanging from his wall and spear them through the head, one by one, so that they stay there. Pinned. And then sealed, under the loam of those that have rotted there before them.

He sits there in his chair, body wracked with pain, until his feelings finally dissipate, and then he's left with nothing. Nothing, and he'll take it. It means he's done. If he wanted to continue, there's no way he could, anyway, so he pulls himself away from his desk and stretches. He figures it's time to go do a task that will prove more productive.

A quick shower to warm him up and a (non-alcoholic) mug of hot toddy later, he's out ripping the old boards from his shed to replace. It's not the greatest idea to do it while it's still winter, he knows, it would be a lot easier on him if he waited till spring, would probably hold better. It gives him something to do. He's needed to fix it for a while; all last summer it would creak and moan and shiver under the weight of summer rain, barely holding structure. Maybe he should tear it all down and build a new one. Could be better, though for that, he would have to wait until warmer weather arrived, and he uses the shed at least two times a week. Just a patch up. Keep it going a little longer, and then come spring he'll see what he wants to do with it.

The cold biting at his already frozen skin and the splintering wood underneath his fingers stirs something short of a distant memory from within him. So long ago, repairing his own hive with the remains of ships that washed along the shore of his home. Bigger pieces of metal that he'd have to to cut and shape with his limited knowledge of tools. Fighting against storms that would bash any incoming debris against the outside walls, waves that could rip him away at any time and shred him to pieces. He had to cling to the edges of whatever hole he was repairing in order not to find himself trapped underneath the water. He barely had any weight to hold him down. Tiny legs to stand on, thin and frail arms that struggled to lift in hurricane after hurricane. It's a wonder how he could have ever survived, honestly, but it's the only way he built enough strength to go after creatures as big as he did. Sometimes, they would make their way to him. He would win, always, never leaving a battle until it was finished, but getting out within an inch of his life on more than a few occasions.

Doing structural repairs isn't a problem anymore. No. He's even helped people do minor repairs on their own buildings, if he felt like doing them. It makes him feel proud, but the memories prove difficult to shake, and they tend to wander into other memories from his past that, are less pleasant.

He's not as strong as he used to be, which might be why he remembers his fragile form the most. He's not as fast, either. These few boards will take him up to thirty minutes to pry off, though they're slightly rotted, or bent out of shape. His joints crackle and pop, muscles strain. He's got the proper tools to help him, even, and still it's hard on him. Why? Why is it so hard? He's gone through much worse, walked through hell and back not all that long ago and healed over within days, spry as ever. Well... he might have been dead, for most of that. Only proof that he has more use to people dead than he does alive.

Only, he hates that thought. He likes being alive. He hates it, too, but he likes it. And death, now, seems like a hazy dream that becomes clearer with every passing moment, and he'd like to keep that dream from manifesting itself, thank you very much. But would he really rather be useless than dead? It, has him wondering if he can make any use of himself at all, like this. He's trying, he is. His therapist won't be happy to hear about that one, but talking to them is better than keeping the thought to himself.

He catches a glance at the frosted, graying ground beneath his feet. It's dormant now, right? Like him. But soon the earth will warm and the sun will beat down on its blades of grass and it will live again. And it'll do more than live, too, provide so much for other plants, other creatures. Dandelions and wildflowers, clovers and ladybugs, a vibrant and colorful floor of lush, breathing heartbeats, soul erupting from beneath the ground cover. It'll breathe it into his own garden, when it comes time to plant. Maybe he can be like that, if he tries. Maybe he can be radiant and giving and push others towards blooming forth as the best versions of themselves. Maybe, he thinks, before he remembers his hands are shaky and cold, and a single touch might wilt whatever life falls beneath, and how he'd already shattered everyone's hopes and dreams, once upon a time, and then he remembers, again, why he's all the way out here, and all of his friends are happier over there.

No more distraction, then. He downs the rest of his mug and rips the last board from his shed like a bandaid, quickly, recklessly. It works, and the wood sinks into his hands, tears at his soft flesh. The board is dyed with violet and discarded. He checks his palms-the damage isn't bad, he thinks, it'll be fine. He carelessly pulls out the fractures of wood, inspects for any smaller pieces, and then wraps them haphazardly in bandages so he can get back to work. He'll revisit them later. He has time.

A single bird chirps on as he works, screws and nails and lacquer the only other company to him and his tools. On, for an hour, two, then three, and before long, he has a clean looking shed that won't fall on top of him whenever he walks in. Should he repair the roof? He might as well, right? He has extra boards. And that takes him an extra hour, only because the roof is a single piece on its own. His back aches, hands throb, knees creak as he steps back and puffs air into his lungs, coughing rightfully. It's cold, he's cold, he's tired, everything stings and pulses and yet, it's nice. It's more pleasant than being numb, or feeling that way simply because your body is torturing you. This is the sting of vitality, of hard work. He can't give a smile, no, but he might if his muscles would allow it.

It's only one pm and he feels like he has nothing to do. He should be grateful; most people would give anything to have as much time as he does, and it's a luxury. But they have lives they can fill that time with. He has to scrape his brain until it bleeds to think of what the hell he's supposed to be doing with all the time he has. He works, sure. It's only for an hour a few times a week, hardly a cut in his empty void of a schedule. He _was_ busy, this week, and then he finished everything under the influence of his restlessness and his fear of giving his thoughts the time to haunt him. _What to do_ , he thinks, as he unwraps his bandages and reapplies better ones after cleaning his hands.

He'll check his phone for the hell of it, he thinks. He doubts he'll have anything-

Kar: HEY ERIDAN I SENT YOU A MESSAGE OVER TROLLIAN BUT I DON'T KNOW IF YOU'LL GET IT OR NOT SO

LIKE UH

I HAVE YOUR JACKET, FOR SOME REASON?

I DON'T KNOW WHY BECAUSE I DON'T EVEN REMEMBER PUTTING IT ON

UH, IF YOU WANT IT BACK YOU SHOULD COME PICK IT UP SOMETIME

I MIGHT USE IT UNTIL THEN SO IF YOU DON'T WANT ME TO I GUESS TOO FUCKING BAD BUT I'LL WASH IT SO YOU DON'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT IT

GIVE ME A CALL OKAY?

That was, oh, Tuesday? Has it really only been two days since he dropped Karkat off? Jesus, it's felt like weeks! And he hasn't replied this whole time, either, after giving him all that shit for not letting anyone know he was coming over? It's, he hadn't been expecting him to text him at all. That's it, isn't it? That's why he hasn't checked...

Careless.

He hurriedly presses the call button, and within a few rings, he picks up.

He rushes to blurt some kind of excuse, "Kar, I'm sorry I didn't reply t'your text earlier, I wwas kinda-"

_"Oh! Hey! I'm, out with some friends right now but-"_

Friends. Friends, right. Of course. He's, "I caught y'at a bad time? I, I can call again later don't wworry about it Kar I'm real so-"

_"No no! No, this is fine, don't hang up, please."_

There's confusion, now. Didn't he, just say...? "Kar ain't it rude t'be talkin' on the phone right in front'a'your friends wwhen you're hangin' out? I mean if someone did that t'me an' it wwasn't important-"

_"This is an important call."_

Flutters.

His hands tremble slightly, heart pounding in time with every little butterfly born. Now he's struggling to think at all. "... Okay. Um, again I meant to reply t'your text soon as I got home Kar but I wwas real busy this wweek so I didn't get t'it. I hope it wwasn't an inconvvenience Kar."

_"That's alright. So what did you call me for?"_

A breath while he finds the right words to say. "Wwhile I'm in no rush t'get that jacket back, I wwould like t'see y'as soon as possible as long as you're free Kar. I wwas thinkin' wwe could go someplace t'gether, maybe for afternoon coffee an' a chat or dinner or somethin'?"

_"I think I'd like that."_

Like that. He'd, like that. Nothing else to pad that with, no vulgar remark, no barking it out, nothing. Shit, why? Why does his body betray him like this? He heaves a sigh, before he remembers himself. "Like wwhich one, Kar?"

_"Hmm. Coffee? And then we can go from there."_

"Sounds good. I can drivve ovver there-I mean I guess I gotta considerin' y'havven't got a car but I don't wwanna make anythin' hard for ya Kar."

_"Hehe. Kar. Car."_

He, sounds different. There's a certain heavy thickness to his voice, a cloud that makes him sound floaty, like he's dreaming and he's mumbling his thoughts in his sleep. "I uh, I guess it's kinda funny?"

_"It is. Driving eight hours just to spend two with me sounds like a fucking awful deal for the both of us so, if you, wanna spend the night?"_

Spend the night. Again, with Karkat. Because he asked.

More flutters, yet he has the conscience to think twice about it.

He'll make a fool of himself, do something stupid and then it'll all be ruined, won't it? He has a habit of it. If he doesn't make a fool of himself, he'll be overly careful, and it'll all amount to nothing but them sitting around and fiddling with their fingers and then he'll come home the next day and beat himself up for not doing more, and everything will go to shit in his stupid little bloodsucking parasite of a brain. Does he dare? Does he dare at all, or does he regret it anyway, by refusing to allow himself more time with Karkat?

He'll, give Karkat an opportunity to speak about his intentions. Whether it's a courtesy or not. "Iii, I don't wwanna put too much stress on y'Kar, you'vve already gone outta your wway t-"

_"No! No it wouldn't be stressful or hard or anything like that! I was the one who suggested it."_

A courtesy. Maybe? The words phrased it like that, but his tone says otherwise. He, "I guess as long as you're okay wwith it Kar. But don't think you'll get awway wwith drivvin' long distances t'my house in the future wwithout expectin' t'stay ovver, then. 'Specially since I knoww your sleep schedule and it's abhorrent Kar."

_"What? Are you really offended by my fucking sleep schedule?"_

"Wwho wwouldn't be? I'vve had you talk t'me about not sleepin' for days on end an' that's no wway t'livve Kar! An' then wwhen y'do go t'sleep y'sleep for hours an' hours an' no one can reach y'evven if they wwanted to. Bein' god-awful tired all the damn time 'cause a'rom-coms an' shitty American televvision cable shit that don't evven got much vvariety due t'discriminatory pieces a'breathin' scum you'd find on th'bottom a'a rotted wwooden boat is, I don't knoww howw y'do it Kar. They're gettin' better but god, Kar. That's wwhat y'stay up for?"

_"Better than staring at the ceiling for hours."_

Oh god, that's too real of a feeling.

Karkat doesn't deserve to struggle with that, does he? But, how can _he_ help that? It's not like he can be there himself, and giving advice will only make him feel like he's not doing enough as it is. This isn't confusion, this is helplessness. Maybe he, doesn't want his help. What can he do, what can he do...?

It wouldn't hurt to offer him something. He can refuse if he wants, right?

"Next time y'can't sleep an' y'need some help y'call me right up an' I'll do my best t'get y' knocked out cold so y'can wake up th'next mornin' all refreshed."

That came out more as a demand than anything else, but he'll take it. He waits for a reply with bated breath, worried for absolutely no reason at all.

_"You better hold to that, then."_

"Oh don't you wworry I damn wwell wwill hold t'it."

_"Good."_

Good. _Good._ He actually wants him to help. He can be useful, to his best friend. And, to think, on the drive home from Nevada on Monday, he was ready to cut it all off.

Sometimes, Eridan is so fucking stupid.

They, sit there, in silence. It's only half-awkward, as he hears Karkat talking to someone else on the other end. Eridan nudges the lid of his mug, trying not to get embarrassed, though his face burns anyway. His tone of voice, his relative calm, keeping him on the _phone when there's other people._

"Are y'sure I'm not holdin' anythin' up Kar?"

_"You're not, but if you feel too self-conscious about it we can talk later, when I'm home and have nothing to do?"_

Relief. "Yeah, I'd like that. Howw long d'y'think it'll be? Gaugin' howw much I can get done b'fore wwe talk again is all. If y'dont knoww that's okay too."

_"You'll hear from me later tonight?"_

"Okay. See y'later Kar, stay safe."

_"Talk to you soon <3"_

Eridan's heart shivers, he's tangled in some invisible cord and he can't bring himself to hang up, but it's okay, because he hears a beep on the other end that means Karkat took care of it for him. Soon. Later that night. He has something to look forward to for the rest of the day, one little blip in his schedule. It's enough to keep him going.

He makes sure he remembered to take his meds, and then he lets their call together tug his heart in whatever direction it wants to go.

* * *

Eridan bursts through his doorway, carrying bags full of all sorts of things. He'll probably kick himself later for spending some fuckin' Bank Ass Cash but who the hell cares? He has himself some more books to read (only adding to his fucking _reading list and book hoarding problems_ ,) a whole bunch of new hand tools, and food. Oh, is there food. Most of it, is for a later time, but he stashes the refrigerated goods in the fridge. He will eagerly get back to them later. He pulls a box of orchid food from one of the bags and gets to mixing it up for his countless...

Plants. So many fucking plants. All requiring different care, including his pitcher plants and butterworts, which he started caring for recently. Carnivorous plants have always piqued his interest slightly, and they keep bugs out of his house. Win-win, all he has to do is fertilize them (gently, just a teeny bit,) once a month and keep them soaking in water and they're good to go. They're just coming out of their dormant stage, which is why he's watering and feeding them today. There's a tiny jar of bloodworms in the fridge for when they wake up a little more and need bugs instead of the little fertilizer they have. The orchid food is, also for orchids. He sets up the grow lights and makes sure everything is well-taken care of, and as he's coming back to the kitchen, his phone buzzes.

It takes him a moment to register, because he hasn't had his phone buzz in a month and a half, but when he sees the first K his finger practically stabs the screen. He fumbles with his phone for a little bit, pressing it to his ear just as Karkat's voice comes through.

_"Hey Eridan, sorry about earlier, we went out to eat and then do other things I guess. How was your day?"_

This is surreal. He has to make sure his head is still on and his phone is _actually on call._ He called him _back?_ Asked him about his fucking day-that part isn't actually all that new, and still. Hearing it all in a calm and quiet voice almost gives him shivers.

He sounds tired though, too, which, makes him slightly hushed too, though he's excited. "I don't mind at all Kar, I hope it wwas decent considerin' food can be shit ovver in Seattle evven if there's some good places t'go. My day wwas okay, got some errands done includin' gettin' my garden shed all fixed up from the rain wwarpin' the wwood. Had t'rebuild most a'it ovver the wweek. Howw wwas your day Kar?"

_"It was alright but damn, I'm in a lot of pain."_

"I'm real sorry Kar, that fuckin' sucks shit. Did y'take anythin' for it? I mean sometimes things don't wwork so if you're strugglin' I can givve y'some recommendations 'cause fuck, I struggle wwith pain meds too."

_"... Wwwwwwweed?"_

Oh. That earlier call makes a lot of sense, now. And the eating? He never really got why people got hungry on weed, the one time he tried it he felt like he was gonna fucking die. Sat there crying because his body was burning in more ways than one and everything was too heavy for him to move. Felt his pulse all the way in his horns. He could only sit there and wait until it went away, just like everything else he has to wait for. But people have younger bodies than Eridan does, and maybe that's why.

"That's why your vvoice sounded wweird. It wwas real cute though so don't be self-conscious or anythin'." And it's not a lie. God, it was adorable, if he could go back and listen to it again he would.

Eridan reaches a hand into the fridge and pulls out what he's been waiting for since he started working on his shed. Oh boy oh boy oh boy it's gonna be fucking great. Everything is great right now. _"_ _Whatever <3 So um, I can make a spot for our coffee, is there any day in particular that you prefer? I mean I'm scheduled for a while out but I'd rather do it at a time where you aren't planning to do anything else."_

"Kar, my schedule is pretty flexible-"

There's silence. On both ends, as Eridan stares into his trash can.

_"... Eridan?"_

"I'm a fuckin' dumbass."

_"What the fuck dude no you're n-"_

"Nono, just wwait 'till you, okay I'm gonna," he's gonna fucking scream is what he's gonna do. He fucked up something as simple, as putting actual trash where it goes, and now? "Ohmygod, I opened my fuckin' yogurt t'eat it an' wwent t'throww awway th'lid. Guess wwhat I did not throww awway? Guess wwhat I threww awway instead? Guess wwho's holdin' a yogurt lid wwithout any yogurt on it t'showw for their dumbass efforts?"

_"That's fucking hilarious."_

He's mortified.

Karkat giggles sweetly, and Eridan can't help the heat that pools in his cheeks, singes the tips of his fins. "Damnit but it wwas th'only fuckin' key lime I bought an' this is a more expensivve brand! I threww awway my damn treat for wworkin' on my garden shed t'day I couldn't be more of a fool Kar I can't believve this I'vve been sabotaged by my own crummy brain."

_"Is it like, greek yogurt or something?"_

GREEK YOGURT? "No! Fuck greek yogurt that shit is fuckin' terrible for th'envvironment! It's goat milk yogurt an' I swwear Kar all these s'burban moms wwith their shitty health trends make prices hike like Elon Musk launchin' his fuckin' shitty Tesla car in't'space. I gotta buy some fuckin' goat milk yogurt because I'm a seadwwellin' troll wwith no natural wway t'process coww milk an' evvery time I havve normal yogurt or, god forbid, greek yogurt, I get a nasty sinus infection that lasts months."

He's offended that he even asked the question. Actually, he's not, he's trying to find reasons to throw his attention at something other than his easily avoidable and trivial mistake that literally no one cares about but Eridan. He grumbles, and as he tries to readjust his phone and throw the lid away, he's greeted with, yet another mistake. There's a _clink!_ from the trash can, and he cant help the frustrated noise that blows from his nose.

"Goddamnit that wwas my fuckin' spoon! Did'y'hear that Kar? That fuckin' clink? I just threww awway my spoon. You'd think I wwould learn somethin' but no, my stupid little insect brain refuses t'do more than run on muscle memory. I shoulda gone t'put awway th'spoon first an' noww I'vve gotta fish my spoon outta th'garbage like the bottom-feedin' heathenous chiton I am."

More giggling, that bursts into laughter. He makes it so hard to stay mad with a laugh that makes him _melt_ like this. _"Listen, I don't mean to undermine your rant or anything, because this sucks and I feel your pain, you're just, so fucking cute what the hell Eridan."_

"If y'think that's cute y'should probably redefine your definition a'cute Kar. If I heard someone else do wwhat I just did I'd feel sorry for the poor sucker 'cause wwhat kinda brain d'y'gotta havve t'do that Kar? Wwhat kinda garbage does someone havve't'be stuck wwith in order t'throww awway the damn yogurt they'vve been lookin' forwward t'all day?"

_"You can always go and buy another yogurt. No one's telling you you can't, you know, and you can totally afford it."_

He can, he should, and he has no real reason to keep him from going and getting one right now, but if he resigns himself to going and getting a yogurt, he can't keep talking to Karkat about it, and you see, that's a fucking crime that is. If he can't feel his laughter resonate in his own chest, can't hear the rare, soft inflection of his voice that he hasn't been able to since he was six sweeps old, there's no reason to not be talking about it. He can't believe it was yogurt. It was _yogurt._

That and he has to scrounge up a new topic if he moves on, so he comes up with a bullshit excuse that's not entirely bullshit, but that he's already broken today anyway.

"Yeah but I'm tryin' t'stop spendin' so much money on shit so I can fluff up my nest egg some."

_"What in the fuck are you talking about?"_

"Y'knoww, like the account y'havve on th'side in case a'emergencies. I'vve got two years wworth a'livvin' expenses in there already but I'm tryin' t'get t'three an' I don't wwork as much as I should so I'vve got a wwhile t'go before I reach that goal." Not like he needs to work, he's got an account that'll only pile and pile over the years, but he should contribute to society instead of being a rich bastard who rides his money over every trouble he'll ever have until he eventually dies.

Karkat pauses. _"You have that? You can afford that?"_

"Y'don't got that? I mean twwo years is bigger than th'avverage nest egg for sure but I can nevver be too prepared wwith my luck." That, too, is not entirely bullshit.

_"I didn't know people did that sort of thing, I just have 1,000 put aside for if I like, break my arm or something and if it goes over I'm screwed."_

What in. The holy hell.

"Shut the fuck up."

_"You shut the fuck up with your massive cash stack you ultimate prick how dare you"_

If Karkat had gotten injured on the way to his house and someone DID find him, if someone had sent him to the hospital? Oh god. The ambulance costs. The, the hospital bill. He'd be paying it off for...

Eridan feels the little kettle of patience he has for the current government and economic system whistle. It's boiling. "Kar not t'be rude or anythin' but I'm payin' for evvery medical transaction you'll evver havve and there's nothin' you can do t'stop me."

 _"You physically cannot do that,"_ false, he can if Karkat will let him, which he should, _"and why the hell would you want to? Medicine is expensive. It's like a hundred and twenty dollars just to visit my general practitioner now and an extra fourty for the cheapest pills I have."_

"Exactly. At least help me fix your insurance so you're not fuckin' cheated if somethin' evver happens t'y'Kar dear god only 1,000. Wwhat kinda scraps are they feedin'y'Kar? Don't y'wwork in therapy? I pay my damn therapist two hundred and fifty for evvery fourty minutes."

_"You fucking what now"_

"I knoww it ain't the cheapest rate out there but they're really good okay? And I knoww that doesn't come out their final pay, they don't earn that much."

_"Yeah, no kidding. I only make around 50k a year and that's some pretty good pay for one person but I mean, I don't have enough to be tossing my money around like some fucking pompous twat who already has their retirement in order-no offense Eridan, sorry."_

The kettle cracks.

All of that boiling water blisters at his insides. Fuck! The little time he spends talking to him, he's always talking about how everyone's dragging him into hanging out with them, all the places he has to go to, and now he knows why he's complaining! 50K isn't enough for jack SHIT out here! In fact, what's the average cost of living up here? Let's see...

He's typing it as he talks, has Karkat on speaker. "God, no wwonder y'can't savve up wwith howw often evveryone is takin' y'out, y'can barely covver th'necessities an' y'certainly can't covver school so howw the hell d'y'havve th'money t'go out in th'first place? Fuck! They're squeezin' y'dry Kar evveryone is!"

_"What do you know about how expensive it is to live over here?"_

He doesn't, until. Now.

"Comfortable cost'a'livvin' in'th'Seattle area is close t'sevventy two thousand a year Kar. May havve looked it up."

He's sure he's going to grind his teeth until he rips the roots from his gums and shreds them into fleshy little bits of pulp. Holy fucking hell. He'd go and slap some sense into every single one of his cowardly, bastardous 'friends' if they weren't actually subject to the same economic environment that Karkat was, and if they weren't also, somehow, Eridan's friends, too. In... his heart, at least. It's his boss. It's the fucking system, fucking him over, and not them. But it's also them. But it's more the system. He wants to eat his boss. He'll eat Karkat's boss, and he'll enjoy the taste of blood that flows between his teeth from the artery that pulses on his tongue, and then he'll become Karkat's stupid fucking boss, and then he'll pay him what he deserves, and then he'll become Karkat's boss's boss, and he'll keep going until he can't go any higher. And then he'll knock the pillars from beneath the-

_"I've stayed base salary at my office. I guess I thought I would have moved up by now? I mean what the hell do you suggest I do Eridan it's Seattle."_

Oh what does HE suggest? Oh he's got a lot of suggestions, but none of them are great. So he gives himself a second to cool down before he destroys the cup he's pulling from the cupboard. "I think, wwith howw often you're actin' as your friends' therapists, y'should start chargin' them your normal fees. They'll either stop pesterin' y'wwith their shit or pay it an' you'll get the extra pocket cash. I also think y'should ask for a raise yeah, but not before applyin' t'offices wwith higher pay rates." Damn right higher pay rates. Karkat's the hardest worker he knows and if they're not paying him enough to fucking live close to where he works it'll be their loss when he quits, and their funerals when Eridan fucking reports them to the labor commission. He'll do it. Somehow. He'll find something to go at them for, for sure.

_"I'm honestly surprised I've been working in my field at all considering I've just barely graduated with my bachelor's degree, and that was an accelerated program."_

"They gavve an exception for you didn't they?"

_"They did. I still don't know why and I'm pretty sure it's illegal but hey, I'm doing great and apparently they value me."_

More air, through his nose. Value, do they? That's what they do, now? "Oh bullshit if they vvalued y'they'd be payin' y'better than you're bein' paid right noww an' I'm half-tempted t'come ovver t'your office an' cheww their fuckin' dumbass heads off." More, than tempted. He hasn't been this angry since-

_"Please don't do that."_

"I wwon't because I'd probably cry halfwway through like the fuckin wwriggler I am. You're not payin' for coffee."

_"Fair. Um, so, what day would you be free?"_

He has the fucking gall to ask Eridan when things are convenient for _him?_ "I'm free pretty much all th'time considerin' th'nature of my job. Wwhen are y o u free, though, 'cause I knoww your damn schedule is packed an' don't tell me it ain't."

_"Sunday?"_

"Sunday's perfect. If I'm stayin' ovver I'm payin' for dinner too."

_"Anything to help my poor wallet."_

"Good. Are you busy right noww?"

_"Hell no, I'm watching some uninteresting garbage on my TV and I couldn't be more happy to talk to you."_

Flutters. Again, and this time, his heart skips, too.

"You fuckin' mushy bastard you take that back," take it back, because he wants to stay angry, and he hates this sudden confusion that swishes his brain jelly around, and because he thought he was over this, he took the time, didn't he? He bites the tip of his tongue to will away all the warmth.

_"No <3"_

He gets warmer.

"Fine but only 'cause I appreciate you an' your time an' your wwords."

_"I know you big dork."_

Shit, okay, he wants to be on the phone with him, he does, but he, can't, do this, right now, it's too _much_ for him, he'll-

"... So uh. Y'sure you're not busy right noww?"

_"Yeah, I'm completely free."_

"I'm sorry I keep askin' but I can't shake th'feelin' that I'm botherin' y'Kar."

_"You're not."_

A murmur, from his heart.

_"Um, if you want to come over earlier you can, you know."_

Another.

"Aren't y'busy until Sunday though Kar?"

_"I can make some time, if you don't mind helping me run some errands on Friday?"_

"That's t'morroww."

_"Yeah."_

And another.

_"Is, that too early?"_

And another, this time, longer, louder.

"No. I'll be ovver as soon as y'wwant me t'be there Kar, if y'need it."

_"I do."_

He feels a tremor in the muscle, the way it squeezes almost painful as it forces the blood to his head.

"Alright Kar. Wwhat time?"

_"As soon as you can get here."_

"Got it. D'y'need me t'let y'go Kar?"

_"No."_

No. 

_"Please don't."_

Don't _do_ this, to him.

"Evven, though I don't got much t'say Kar?"

_"It's enough to know you're on the other end, but you can talk as much as you like."_

"Yeah?" Talk? As if he can find something to say at all?

_"Yeah. It's relaxing."_

"Evven wwhen I'm runnin' my mouth about some stupid shit I did?"

_"Yeah."_

Eridan has to calmly reteach himself to breathe.

_"Eridan I know we just decided on tomorrow and it's getting way too late to drive over here but as soon as you can get here means like, if I get you your yogurt can you be here sooner?"_

Be there sooner. Be there, _sooner._ And he's bargaining."... Y'don't need t'bribe me, Kar. I'll be ovver there by midnight if y'can promise me you'll be awwake t'let me in."

_"Oh thank god, I fucking need this right now."_

He does.

"Is that a promise then?"

_"Of fucking course it is. I won't be able to sleep until you get here anyway."_

His heart squeezes so hard it pops, bursts, and he feels his body cavity fill with warm, syrupy feeling and he doesn't want it there. He doesn't want it, because he'll take it with him, and it won't go away, and it only gets warmer, and his heart won't stop gushing everywhere, won't stop throbbing until it bruises so badly it can no longer move. He'll die. God, he'll die like this. Does he, want to, though? He's questioning himself, because it's the warmest he's been in a long time, maybe even warmer than Monday night.

"I, I'll see y'in like, four hours?"

_"Wait, can you stay on the phone for a little while too?"_

Fuck.

_"Please?"_

_Fuck._

But maybe, there's, some other motive, he can't possibly-"Are y'sure your day wwas okay Kar?"

_"It-"_

"I mean I knoww it's rude t'pry but you're actin' real wweird, Kar, I don't think you'vve evver, really, needed me t'be on the phone wwith y'like this before an' it makes me a wworryin' sack a' shit stickin' my nose wwhere it doesn't belong-"

_"Eridan, hey, you're fine. I appreciate your concern, it tells me you care. I'm fine, I just need to have you here, I guess."_

_fUCK._

"You're talkin' an awwful lotta nonsense Kar."

_"Probably."_

He has to find a way to end this call he _has to find a way to end this call_ he, has. To find. A way to end this, call. How, how, how, what does he think of, what _can_ he think of, so that he can actually keep himself in enough pieces to drive over there?

"If y'can wwait until I get there t'talk t'me some more I'll stay up wwith y'as long as y'wwant?"

_"You promise?"_

"A'course I do silly I'm th'one wwho thought a'it."

_"... Okay. See you in a little while Eridan <3"_

It whimpers.

"See ya, Kar."

Eridan presses his finger to the end call button before another word can be said. His heart is left trembling, pleading with him to get back on call or leave already, it can't take another second of being away from him and maybe if it pounds hard enough, it'll leap from his ribs and be able to move on its own. Shaky, shallow breathing, for a minute or two, he lets himself settle. Once his heart has resigned to being trapped in its cage, but steeled in its intentions, he pulls a few bags from the closet in the front room. He'll be quick, as fast as he can go.

He can't afford to break his promise to Karkat.

* * *

"Hey, you're here!"

Eridan stands at the threshold of Karkat's house, digging his nails into the palms of his hands. It only makes his injuries worse, but he doesn't care. The drive was long and lonely and painful to bear without Karkat in the passenger's seat, with none of his soft snoring, with none of his inquisitive questions or rambling dialogue. He took a lot longer to load the car than he'd like, too, a lot longer to pack than he expected. He had to get everything he was planning to bring. It's not as much as he thought it would be, it just takes him ten minutes to do what other people can do in two.

He made it, though. After the seemingly unending stretch of empty road, he got here, and he couldn't be more conflicted. The moment he drove in he thought his heart would tear itself from his chest, leap out his throat and knock on the door itself. And yet, he himself was frozen. What if it all changed when Karkat opened the door? What if he found he didn't really want him there, when he saw him, and they had endured a weekend of torment and agonizing silence? It would be more than awkward, and he'd rather stab himself, as dramatic as that is. Not, however, an exaggeration of his feelings.

He gathered his courage to walk to his door and Karkat had somehow swung it open before he even knocked, and here they were, now, and Eridan is struggling, not because Karkat's not excited, because Karkat is. No,

Eridan stands at the threshold of Karkat's house, digging his nails into the palms of his hands to keep himself from looking directly at Karkat, and everything in him howls.

"I, yeah I am, I told y'I wwould be didn't I?" And while not a definite promise, he wants this so much more than he'll let himself want it.

"I mean you did but it's nice to see you anyway, I was worried you might fall asleep at the wheel."

"No wway in hell wwould I havve let that happen are y'fuckin' kiddin' my ass???"

"Good. Uh, come on in."

The night looms over him, stalking at his feet, claws barely slicing at his ankles, and then Karkat takes his hand and yanks him in without another thought. His hand is soft, warm enough to be flushed, grip firm but gentle. Karkat, from that moment on, has Eridan wrapped in his tiny little fingers. So, as Eridan helplessly follows, heart chained to Karkat's will of its own accord, he wonders exactly what the hell he's gotten himself into, and why he didn't stay home,

That is, until Karkat sits him on his couch. He leaves into his kitchen, and Eridan is reminded of his own intentions.

"I'll get you some tea? Sorry, I only have Lipton."

"No need t'be sorry, I'm guessin' y'only drink it t'get wwarm or help your sickness along then?"

"Yeah."

He peeks in at Karkat and waits until he's looking in his direction, gestures that he'll be getting his things. He can't see Karkat's face, but he can see the motion of his nod, and with that, he dismisses himself.

He brings in his clothes (only one bag because fuck that,) and then goes to get, everything else. Most of it, of course, being-

"What the hell did you bring over?"

Ah yes. His curiosity is strong.

"Some damn food so you'vve got somethin' t'eat damnit I'm fuckin' pissed at your fuckin' boss right noww an' I'll tell y'wwhat if anyone wwants t'take y'anywwhere wwhile I'm dowwn here you're only goin' if they're payin' for y'or I'm payin' for your ass."

"Eridan that's embarrassing."

Embarrassing, maybe, but smart. He could afford to make smarter choices in the future.

"Frankly I don't fuckin' care if it's embarrassin' I don't wwant your ass t'be any more fried than it already is Kar."

"It's not like I'm going anywhere with anyone but you this weekend."

His heart quivers, and it only works to steel his resolve. He huffs. "Fuckin' good. So you'll havve no problem wwith me helpin' y'out then? If you're thinkin' a'spendin a single cent on anythin' you're fuckin' playin' wwith some damn fire an' I'll let the devvil pull the teeth from my mouth before I let y'convvince me otherwwise Kar."

"How in the hell would I fucking pay you ba-"

"Cut the fuckin' bullshit y'knoww damn wwell I don't need t'be paid back for anythin' evver but if y'wwanna pay me back consider: livvin'? Thrivvin'? Evver thought a'those things Kar? Maybe put your fuckin' boss on th'choppin' block for his sins so I can removve his fuckin' arms-sorry I'm real heated about it is all Kar."

He already agreed to let him pay for coffee so he wouldn't go back on that, but fuck man, fuck. He can't, let this, go, and he won't. Karkat will yield, or they'll sit here arguing until Eridan eventually kicks the-uh, keels over and dies. Karkat holds up two packets of tea and shuffles them in a way that asks 'one or two?' and Eridan holds up two fingers. Karkat plops them into whatever mug he's using, he can't see very well. It's dark in here. Yes, trolls are-no, used to be, kind of still are, nocturnal. He'd be able to see better if he was underwater. He's lucky he hasn't accidentally met eyes yet.

"I know. Eridan the guilt would eat me alive-"

"The guilt can fuckin' throww as many punches as it wwants, I'll eat its hands."

"Eridan."

"If there's one good thing t'put my stubborn ass in front'a it's _your_ stubborn ass, Kar, 'cause I knoww y'wwont budge on it but neither wwill I an' you'll havve t'kill me before y'get me t'movve on the position."

"You're more flexible than you claim yourself to be, you know."

"So are you. An' didn't y'say anythin' t'help your poor wwallet?"

Damn right he did, and that's a sigh of defeat. It makes his chest tighten uncomfortably, he didn't mean to make him feel bad, he, just-

"Fine but god it makes me feel like a fucking grub!"

"There ain't nothin' wwrong wwith gettin' help from people Kar an' financial help is alwways a little tricky but if I'vve got money comin' out my ass an' you need help like hell I'm gonna keep that shit for myself th'fuck wwould I be? Fef? Fef can fuckin' shovve her damn trident so far up her pretentious ass that it comes outta her mouth."

The mention of Feferi seems to release some of the tension in Karkat's shoulders, and he breathes a chuckle between his lips. Fuck, he'll choke on his own throat.

"That's fucking hilarious."

"Not really. Sorry I'm, I'vve got problems."

The kettle whistles, interrupting them, and Karkat pulls it off to pour over the tea, letting out a heavy, drawn out sigh. He sounds, so exhausted. Guilt grabs harder at Eridan's gut, and he'd cut it out if he felt like it would do either of them any good. The water helps to soothe his nerves. Karkat tips the kettle up and hands him his tea, Eridan takes it.

Eridan didn't realize he was shaking. Maybe he's hungry.

Karkat grabs a mug of his own, watching the water flow into it. "You're fine, Eridan. She's been making my life difficult lately. I get people texting me all the time about whatever shit is going on between them and Feferi and I'm so fucking done. If she was easier to work with I could nip the fucking problem in the bud before it got out of control, but she's never the one to talk to me about it. It's always someone else's fault. No one can touch her. I've tried to talk to her about things to at least see where she's coming from, you know, but she goes quiet and fucking ignores me. Like I'm the fucking bad guy for trying to help! I would take something like 'Leave me alone, I don't want to be talked to right now,' or like, an 'I don't feel comfortable in confiding in you with these issues,' or 'I don't understand why my quadrantmates keep coming to you with our issues, could you please tell them to stop?' No. I don't get shit. It makes me less willing to help her with anything, ever. And then she's got this fucking birthday party coming up-"

"Oh yeah. I remember Sol textin' me somethin' about that but I don't really wwanna go."

"You don't?"

"Wwhy the hell wwould I? Evveryone wwho might be there is gonna hate my fuckin' guts or barely tolerate me, wwhy wwould I wwant t'subject myself t'that kind'a envvironment wwhen I could be doin' other things?"

"Other things, huh?"

"Wwell duh, not like I'm gonna sit around just because I'm not goin' somewwhere I didn't evven bother t'make plans for, right?"

The conversation drifts away while they both make their way to the couch, Eridan sitting as far away as he can manage without making it too awkward. Karkat closes most of the distance when he makes a move to scoot closer. Presses, his shoulder into his own. He's always been so warm, hasn't he? He almost leans into him. Almost.

"Did you want to do something together instead?"

A slap to the face. Not an offensive slap, no, it came out of nowhere, that's all. Wouldn't he...?

"Y'don't wwanna go?"

"Yeah."

"Wwhy not? Evveryone there is gonna wwonder wwhere y'are."

"They sure are. It gets tiring when everyone else is tugging you around like some fucking sock puppet or ragdoll. And then they always keep tabs on me, as if I'm some meaty human child that can't even hold its head up right and destroys everything its filthy little claws touch. I'm an adult, I can handle myself."

He can, he doesn't question that, though... "I dunno, you're pretty brash. I can see wwhy they might be wworried about y'Kar."

"It's not always because they're worried."

Right, right. He remembers, he knows. He dares to pat him on the shoulder, and Karkat holds his arm there before he can pull it away.

Eridan, pulls in a shaky breath. "I guess evven if it's outta good nature, y'need your space t'breathe and livve. D'they evver givve y'a break from anythin'? D'y'evver really get t'decide wwhat y'wwanna do for yourself that day, or d'y'just let them drag y'along?"

"I don't make a lot of my own decisions."

"Wwell, I'll try not t'let my concern take ovver things from noww on. Sorry about earlier."

"What the hell do you mean?"

"I mean wwhen I got here an' threww a borderline tantrum about payin' for shit."

A soft chuckle, and his tone drops its slight sharpness. "Oh you're fine are you fucking kidding me no one else would even think twice about whether or not I have enough to cover shit. Hm, wait, except for maybe Gamzee and Nepeta? They do a pretty good job of either comping or finding cheap stuff to do. I'd say Aradia too but she's always with Nepeta."

"Wwhy's that?"

"They're matesprits now, super cute together, too."

"Awwww."

"Yeah. It's not enough though when you've got like, six other people breathing down your back about constantly being in their presence. Tavros is pretty chill about shit so he's excluded from the list."

"Wwait, you're forgettin' someone else."

"Yeah, you."

He quirks an eyebrow, even if it's to himself. "I dunno... Y'sure I'm not on that list?"

"That better have been sarcasm or I'm gonna shove your fucking jacket in your mouth shut the fuck up."

"It wwas only half-sarcastic."

"I'll fucking take it over nothing."

Silence settles again and Eridan manages to slip his arm away from Karkat. The loss of warmth almost kills him, but it's fine, it is. He can't stay too close. It's not good for either of them, mostly because he's so cold he'll end up stealing all of Karkat's heat, and then Karkat might catch a cold or something. And, because he can't give himself any false hope now, can he?

"You can scoot closer, you know."

He doesn't know if he wants to or not.

"I don't wwanna make y'too uncomfortable Kar."

"I can handle it, I promise."

Eridan hesitates. What happens if he scoots closer, then? Do they, stay like that? It wouldn't be too bad, right?

So he does, and Karkat leans into him, pulls his legs onto the couch to press right into his side. He shivers at the contrast in temperature. Karkat reaches down and pulls up a blanket, lays it over... both of them? Tucks it on the other side of Eridan, and climbs into his lap to wrap his arms around him, tuck, his head in the crook of his neck.

Oh dear lord help his poor soul.

"Wwhat in th'hell are y'doin'?" he asks, as he brings a hand to push his glasses up his nose. Is he seeing this right?

"You're always cold, so I thought I might as well warm you up?"

His breath is hot against his shoulder, ticklish when it brushes the tips of his gills. Another shiver, and Karkat pulls himself closer, squeezes enough to strain Eridan's breathing, as if he wasn't having enough trouble. His hand finds its way to Eridan's chest, drags down until it's over his heart. He has to have found him out. That's, the only reasonable explanation for this _torture._ That, or he's utterly oblivious to the fact that Eridan can barely handle himself around Karkat, completely unaware of how fast his pulse races underneath his fingers. He holds his breath, waiting for Karkat to scream in his face, tell him to get out or go away, leave him alone. Never come back. Follow others before him and shun him out of disgust. He's not worthy, he's not worthy, he's not worthy of those fingers ghosting over his chest, he's not worthy of the warmth he brings, of the stars that kindle beneath his touch, and so he's waiting. Waiting for it.

What he's waiting for never comes.

"Wwhy th'hell wwould y'wwanna do that Kar?"

"... Because, you're my friend and I'm concerned for your health and well-being and would like to make you comfortable?"

His tone isn't convincing.

"An' th'wwhole, uh. Cuddlin' thing you'vve got goin' on here?"

"I need these."

"Wwhy d'y'need them exactly?"

"I, don't know but will you shut up and let me cuddle you damnit?"

Adamant.

"If y'wwanted cuddles so bad couldn't y'havve called Gam ovver instead? He livves closer."

"I already got them from Gamzee today, he's sleeping right now. It's not the _only_ reason I called you over here, although I totally wanted them from you."

"Wwhy??? Sorry I'm, genuinely confused is all."

He's cold, repulsive, bothersome; Karkat keeps telling him things that confuse what's already been established and he falters in his belief, but he can't deny the evidence. When everyone hates your ass? What else is there? He spent so long blaming his faults on other people that he only realized it was _his fault_ when it was too late. Of course they hate him. He's, always been confused as to why Karkat even talks to him, when he has everyone else to talk to. What the hell is this? Why does Karkat want _him_ here? He's not worthy, he's not worthy, he's-

"You have very nice cuddles, I've, been thinking about them all morning. Please? Let me have this?"

His heart swells until it's dangerously close to bursting once more.

Karkat may not be looking at Eridan, but Eridan turns his head away anyway, to hide the burning of his face, to hide the betrayal of his own feelings. "... F, Fine. Get your ass comfortable then."

"Thanks Eridan."

"Nnno, prob?"

Karkat pulls himself away, but only enough. His hands still linger, guide his adjustments until Eridan is laying with his back pressed to the cushions. He gives himself a moment to take off his shoes, and then he curls himself up on top of Eridan, sinks his face into his chest and tangles his legs in his. He's not actually that much smaller than Eridan, maybe four inches shorter, at most. He makes himself go slack so that Karkat feels less of his sharp angles, and so it's easier for him to breathe with all the weight on him. Pulls the blanket over them again, dangles his arm over the side.

Karkat snatches it right back up and drapes it over himself.

"Kar you're actin' fuckin' wweird lately. D'y'havve any idea wwhy an' if y'do can y'please tell me so I'm not freakin' out a little bit ovver here?"

He pushes himself up on his elbows, tries to look in Eridan's eyes. Eridan won't let him. "I, I can stop if you feel-"

"No, that's not wwhat I said, Kar, wwhatevver makes y'happy is fine. My concern is that it's unusual behavvior for y't'be exhibitin'."

"I, know."

"Y'dont really knoww wwhy it's like this then?"

"No."

He keeps, searching for his gaze, he can feel his heart beating faster, his hands clutching at Eridan's shirt. Give it up, Karkat; Eridan doesn't have the guts and he never has. He'll be found out, and _Karkat_ will be found out, and is this how they want either of those things to happen? Neither of those things, have to happen. Not yet. Let him pretend. Let him pretend that he can live this way forever, dancing around things that storm beneath his feet. Everything that he has now is one long daydream on top of a breathing nightmare that thrives the longer he neglects it, breeds new nightmares to haunt him after he's done living the last one. Hell. After hell, after hell, hundreds of years of it, and then? And then, he'll live a different kind of hell. But it's okay to daydream, right? It, doesn't hurt anyone. He's the only one who will have to suffer for it when it all comes to a halt.

Let's fuel that daydream before it all comes to a halt.

"Wwell I guess I can't really blame y'for it, then, can I?"

He refuses to let it all come to a halt.

Karkat sighs again and his eyes are off somewhere else. Good. Good, that's perfect. He scoots up just a tad before sinking back into him, hiding his face in the crook of his neck once more. Not quite as ideal as he'd like, but he'll take it over his curious, searching eyes. He lets his runaway feelings return to him as long as they don't make him do something stupid; a terrible move, to trust his feelings like that. He only cares enough to be wary. Caution blurs the longer he feels Karkat's slow, steady breathing, the kind that brings you closer to the edge of sleep with every heave of air. He finds himself sighing, too, silently. A breath he releases to ease the tension in his shoulders. It works better than he thought it would, though he can tell its effectiveness was due in a large part to Karkat's presence.

"Y'cozy?"

"Yeah <3"

"Good 'cause I'm not fuckin' gettin' off the couch t'do anythin' for a couple hours at least."

"Hell fucking yes."

He tries to ignore his heart running away with his feelings once more, but it leaves a long and thick rope for him to follow that's too tempting to look away from. He doesn't grab it. Tension returns. Eridan stills.

"Sorry, that was fucking weird."

No, it's his fault, not Karkat's, and he attempts to patch over the weird leak he must have felt dripping from him. "I'm just impressed at your enthusiasm ovver somethin' small like this."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Everything is released into the darkness that cradles them, tucked away for a later time, maybe. He doesn't mind if it never comes back. A lot of things leave, and that's just how things are, after all, they never had to think about looking behind them. He feels weightless, but not an uncomfortable kind, not the kind where he feels he doesn't have a body anymore, not the kind where he feels he's been ripped from the world and the next moment he closes his eyes will be his last. No, it's a small hover over the surface, floating just above anything that could hurt him, away from whatever grief could come to haunt them with bludgeoning gravity. Maybe things could fall on top of them, but they're beneath clear open expanse, for now. It's all okay. Everything is okay, right here, and as long as they keep breathing through the dark, nothing can hurt them.

Who knows how long they lay there? Time runs away from those who don't dare to keep track of it, who don't care to fill it with menial tasks for the sake of keeping themselves busy. That type of doing things isn't truly living, is it? Only when you immerse yourself in it, only when you dare to feel, instead of calculate, only when you dare to dream and to breathe does time bolt along with the blood that pumps through your arteries. It likes the feeling of the rush just as much as you do. It likes to live. Only those who choose to really live can give it that, and it'll cling to you. Just as it clings to them, and spirals down the path of their heartbeats.

Eridan closes his eyes, tunes himself into the rhythm of their collective being. A soothing lullaby, and he drifts off to sleep.

Only, he doesn't. As close as he gets, something stops him. The rhythm being thrown off. Some, dread, that comes and ruins everything, not from Eridan, no. Not from him. That's the scariest revelation he's had in a little while, that dread could come from anywhere but himself, and his eyes peer open to find Karkat's moved around a little bit, that his fingers are tapping impatiently, that his hand twitches every now and then, that he's straining to keep his breathing in pace. Every tap throws him off, too, and he sits up just a little bit. Karkat moves to look at him again.

No, no. Don't do that. He looks away and Karkat reaches for his cheek, before he pulls his hand to rest on his sternum.

"We, used to talk every night."

They, did. They did do that, and why does it matter that they don't now? It only hurt so much to think about by himself, and he could bear it knowing maybe Karkat was okay with it, and that it was, due to them doing their own things. Being too busy. It hurts more now, now that he's brought it up.

"That, wwas a long time ago, Kar. I can hardly remember it, evven though it's hard t'forget at the same time."

"What happened?"

What happened? He lets his mind take him back down the path of events that brought them to here, and he finds it starts with some of the most painful memories of all. Because what doesn't?

Every start is painful, including birth.

"... The wworld ended, and none of us wwere evver the same. Y'wwould knoww. You're here experiencin' the aftermath wwith th'rest a'us, aren't you?"

He must be confused. Maybe he can elaborate.

"Wwe're incredibly lucky wwe had somethin' t'come back to, no matter howw hard wwe wworked. No matter howw much wwe deservve this, Kar. Wwe coulda been stuck in the medium for all a'eternity an' yet wwe're out here livvin' livves that wwill turn out t'be more normal than they could havve evver been on Alternia. Wwe don't havve t'givve our livves t'anythin' anymore, not evven the stars. An' I'm not dyin' for a long time, so I'vve got hundreds a'years on me t'really livve as a rewward for all the shit wwe'vve done."

Hundreds of years, and Karkat won't follow.

They both feel the pain that grabs hold of them, feel the tightness in each other's chests.

"I nevver really thought I'd get this far, evven wwhen I got out. I thought I'd sit there an' wwaste awway."

He should. He should waste away. He doesn't deserve this.

"Sometimes, I still feel that wway."

He doesn't deserve to feel anything else, after all, so why doesn't he feel it always?

Karkat laces his fingers in Eridan's, and the rope grows longer. He can almost see it peer over the edge of this endless void, and it glows a soft and light yellow. He can see every demon that loves to torment him so, they cower away as he steps closer. Not yet. Maybe one day he'll grab it, because it won't leave until he does, but not yet.

"I didn't mean it like that."

What else could he have meant?

"You were there. I could have, walked in and talked to you at any time, and I didn't. Why didn't I?"

Oh, on that little meteor with all of those respite blocks when everything was ready to crush them underneath their heels like the insects they were. He hardly let himself stay there long, burying himself in vengeance that was never really vengeance. Maybe he was angry he ever had to be chosen for it. Maybe he wanted a normal life, maybe he didn't want to be the hero. Maybe he thought it wasn't fair to his friends to have to bear the burden of saving something that could never be saved. Winning something they could never win. Maybe he felt like everything was falling apart and that, if he, did enough, maybe he could fix it. It never fixed. He never had enough. He gave up, and when he went to give everyone an opportunity to throw the towel in with him, he found they were all doing okay without him.

It broke him, but he should have known.

Everything went dark, and all he could see were glowing figures and their white hot lives stretched out before him, gnarled in knots, twisted in loops and curves and little lightning bolts that looked like tree branches. He could see where they ended. Whether it was because of him or not. He heard the whispers and screams of those who had come before them, begging for help, pleading to be saved, asking him to bring them back so they could finish their own games. So, many that tried and failed, and what was he supposed to think? He shot at anything that came near out of terror and fear. All he wanted, all he wanted, was to die so that he didn't have to hear it anymore.

He was only pulled from his trance when his weapon of destruction was snapped in two, and he got his wish.

That, however, is beside the point. Karkat did make time to talk, as much as he could with everything he was doing. Karkat was the only one who bothered. He should have done better, for him, at least, if no one else, if not himself, he should have thought harder, he should have followed his lead and been the best right-hand-man he could have ever managed at six sweeps. He's so sorry, but that's not for him to feel right now. Reassurance. Reassurance, his focus needs to be there. He leads himself back and figures out how to breathe with Karkat's elbow in his ribs.

"Wwhat wwould you havve said t'me? Did you evven havve time? You'd alwways be runnin' around like a chicken wwith its head cut off tyin' up loose ends an' fixin' problems. Howw could y'havve had more room in your already tight schedule for me?"

"I made it for everyone else, didn't I?"

Who cares? They needed it then, more than he did, and even more still after he hurt everyone, didn't they?

"Wwell, th'point I'm tryin' t'make is that evverythin' wwent t'shit, an' wwe had scarier things t'wworry about, Kar."

It doesn't help. He's not enough, because he feels his grip squeeze his shirt.

"I miss it."

He knows. He can feel that. He doesn't want him to feel that way, it doesn't help either of them.

"Y'told me that already, Kar."

"No, I didn't. I told you something different, maybe something similar, maybe something parallel. Not this."

More. More of that awful feeling, and he chews on his tongue to keep from saying stupid shit that won't end up doing anything but making things worse. But then it dies down, and Karkat is looking, yet again, for his eyes. Stop, stop. He's not worthy.

"Can we go back to that?"

Go back to hell? No.

"Wwhy wwould you wwant to?"

"I just told you."

Oh, different, different. Before they entered. He wants to talk. He's been, very in need of that lately, and he questions it, but he won't say anything right now.

"Do you not miss it?"

Does he? He doesn't even have to think on it, but he hesitates with his answer anyway. "I, I do, Kar."

"Then, why do I feel like you're afraid?"

He is. For so many reasons, he is. The more they talk, the more he knows. The longer he's here, the more he knows. He'll know, he'll know, he'll know, and everything will end because he'll know. He's so afraid. Let it be. Let it rest, let him pretend, before it all comes to a halt.

"I, dunno Kar. It's probably your imagination, you're alwways thinkin' th'wworst evven if y'are a prospit dreamer. S'your anxiety."

"I guess."

Good, good. Relief. Temporary, maybe, or maybe it's more than that. He likes to bring him relief. He doesn't want to be his problem, and he'll keep it that way as long as he can manage. Pretending is good. Pretending is a way to make that happen.

His hand is on his cheek, tilting it to turn towards him. He resists, despite the yearning it makes him feel. His heart screams.

"I'll text you every night from now on okay? You don't have to answer if you don't want to, but you'll be able to if you feel like it."

It's not manageable, life happens. But he can't say no.

"Don't make any promises Kar."

And then those demons, too, are boxed up and given to the night, and they fall into comfort. He's so cute, like this. He can't help his thoughts, and it's better to acknowledge them, as much as he's told himself otherwise even tonight, so that they can leave. This one doesn't. How could it? So clingy and soft and always looking for something to do with his hands. Looking for the perfect spot to rest his head. Shallow breathing in his small little landdwelling lungs, though his aren't much bigger. He wraps his arms around him for comfort, brings him close so he can forget everything he has to do tomorrow. He can bring him to sleep. He's done it before, on the few occasions he was allowed to be as close as he wanted, when Karkat would cry into his shoulder and ask him why things were so bad. He's more fragile than he thinks he is. He's always been. Tough little crab, angry and pointy and harsh on the outside, with soft and tender meat on the inside. A cute crab. He likes crabs. He's thought of getting hermit crabs before, but he could never provide them with the care they deserve.

He's never seen his tears, Karkat wouldn't let him, but he got to feel his tears, and they're about the worst thing he's ever had to experience. Karkat has too many burdens. He wants to lift them. He can't lift them. He can't get close, not anymore. Why should he be allowed to?

Just this, tonight. And then they can go back to being proper friends at a respectable distance, like they never have been in their entire lives.

His breathing deepens and his muscles relax, small noises rumbling in his chest every now and then. He makes sure it's been an even longer while before he attempts to get up, maybe because he wants to indulge, but also because he can't let himself wake Karkat. Carefully, he pulls the blanket off, sits upright and pushes himself on his feet-

"Wait, don't take me to my room."

He jolts.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ Kar I thought y'wwere asleep!"

Dangerous to talk like that while he's holding him, even if he's back on the couch now. Wouldn't he prefer the bed?

"Wwait, wwhy not?"

"I wanna stay here with you."

Burning. God, it burns, all over his body, but his chest and his face most of all, searing hot light yellow feeling.

"I, I think you'd rather be more comfortable Kar, I'm not exactly a great sleepin' partner, 'specially in th'wwinter Kar, an' evven if I couldn't convvince y'otherwwise, sleepin' on th'couch wwith nothin' but a thin blanket, Kar, an' wwith me, too, you'll only catch yourself a cold-"

"Then come with me."

Brighter.

"Ww, wwhat?"

"Please."

Brighter, still.

"I'd do no good for y'evven under thick blankets Kar-"

"I don't care."

Fuller.

"I won't be able to sleep without you."

He'll blow, he can't handle it, he-

"Please, Eridan."

And his feeble little heart erupts once again and he _yields._

"... Fine. Fine, but just this once an' that's it, got it Kar?"

"Yeah."

He was supposed to be strong. He was supposed to have willpower. It hasn't been a problem before. Why can't he win, why can't he win against himself, why is he so weak?

"If y'catch a cold don't come wwhinin' t'me about it 'cause I wwarned y'about it, but I'll help y'get through it anywway if y'need me to."

"Yeah."

He gets up and leads him to his room, and Karkat almost slips into bed, before Eridan realizes they're both somehow sweaty and gross and he demands Karkat takes a shower and gets changed. He bickers a little, resists, but eventually agrees, grabbing some pajamas and slipping into his bathroom. Eridan leaves to put things in places that will keep them how they're supposed to be (note: food, because you kinda have to keep things refrigerated, right?), to clean things up a little and maybe run a load of laundry for Karkat. The, blanket smells like Karkat, like heavy musk with a touch of smoke to it. He has trouble parting with it. He can manage. He's an adult.

By the time he comes back Karkat's already in bed and shivering slightly, the idiot, he forgot to dry his hair. Eridan practically chases him down with the hairdryer as he complains that it's too hot for his horns and why the hell does he have to dry his hair anyway? He gets him to set it on medium setting instead of blasting the heat. Karkat points him towards the shower, and, he hesitates. But he can't get Karkat all sweaty and gross again, can he? Hard work for nothing? He doesn't think so.

So he slips into his shower and digs his nails into his thigh. Resist, fuck, please. It smells so much like him in here he'll suffocate before he gets clean, he thinks. His hand reaches down, then retracts. It's white in here. It's clean, and fresh, and white, and no matter how much water sprays it away, there will never be enough to wash out the stain of his sins, if he indulges. He keeps his grip on his skin sharp. He scrubs until it stings a little, but not too much, tries to be fast, doesn't want his water bill to hike up because of Eridan's wandering thoughts.

And oh, do they wander, but that's for another time, when things are a little less risky.

He grabs a towel off the rack and dries himself before the cold can settle again in his core, though he knows he'll end up freezing himself anyway. Pulls his clothes on, turns the light off as he makes his way out. Goes to dry his hair. Karkat yanks him under the covers before he can, and he protests, struggles all while telling him he's going to make his pillow wet. Fuck it, he tells him, I need you, he tells him, and his fight dies there, and he crawls back under, and then Karkat attacks his hair with a towel. He's more careful than he gives Karkat credit for, for sure, because he avoided his horns the whole time. A fake grumble when everything's done, to save face. Karkat snuggles up to him, though their backs are to each other. He doesn't resist.

It feels, surreal. It's cozy, and pleasant, and he doesn't feel chilled. Everything smells like Karkat. Everything, smells, like Karkat. Everything feels like Karkat, more like home than his own home has ever felt to him, inviting and comforting and all sorts of fuzzy he hates to feel because he'll have to go away from it. His breathing is so calm, and he thinks he's settled into sleep, until he flips on his side and tries to wrap an arm around him. Eridan flips too, Karkat tries to scramble to make it seem like it wasn't him. Cute. He's been caught though.

"Go t'bed Kar."

"Sorry I. I don't know why I'm having trouble with it lately."

"Are y'havvin' nightmares Kar?"

"Only as much as I normally do, but they're getting worse and I don't, want to fall to sleep."

Well, he guesses he can't blame him for it, then, can he?

"Wwell, I'll be right here wwhen y'wwake up, okay?"

"Okay."

He turns away from him again and Karkat huffs as he settles back down. A very consistent grumble, if he might say, stays in his throat until Eridan gives in and pulls him into his form. He acts surprised. He isn't, or at least, he's not unhappy with the development, because he shoves himself as close as he can possibly get and tugs Eridan's arms so that they lock him in. He doesn't know why he likes this, on his end. What if he has to fucking pee? What then? He'll have trouble getting out of it, but Eridan can't say he hates it. Makes him feel, needed. And cared for. And all of that searing hot white feeling slicks over his insides and it's fuzzy. Goddamnit, he's hopeless.

So much longer, he thinks, and he has to be asleep now, right? He should ask.

"Y'asleep yet?"

"No."

Fucking, "God fuckin' damnit Kar is there anythin' I can do t'make you fall th'fuck t'sleep then?"

A mumble. Barely there, huffed into the collar of his turtleneck pajamas, but his fins twitch. He picks up on it. He doesn't think he heard it right.

"Y'wwant me, t'wwhat noww?"

"Play with my hair."

Play, with his hair. What, kind of crazy, for his hands to be so close to his horns? After all of that fuss about the hair dryer, he wants him to put his hands, in his hair, and do what he wants with it? He's, what? And then another thought hits him and his heart flares and tells him to do it already, or it'll stop right there and Karkat will be trapped in dead seadweller arms.

It smells good.

"You're lucky I'd givve my fuckin' left arm for your ass at a moment's notice or the vvery notion a'that proposition wwoulda been fuckin' insanity."

"Yeah, I know."

He, carefully sinks his fingers in until they reach his scalp and Karkat _purrs._ He, fuck, he really purrs. He's barely done anything to it and here he is happy as-oh, maybe he's a little snippy. He's still for too long and Karkat puts his hand on his to tell him to _do it, already, damnit,_ and he can't help the chuckle that bubbles from his lungs. His fingers draw subtle shapes as they move, and Karkat tilts his head into his hand, melting into a puddle of purring grub mush. Goddamnit. Damnit all, his feelings tie in little knots and blow little fireworks all over the place.

"Not t'be fuckin' wweird but you're cute as hell."

He tries to look at him from his hand, but relaxes back into it with a hum when he scratches just next to his horn. "'M not cute."

"You're right, you're absolutely fuckin' precious Kar. Y'could get anyone t'do anythin' for y'like this savve for people wwho don't fuckin' havve eyeballs or half a fuckin' brain."

"Ohmygod stop embarrassing me."

"Y'vve already done enough a'that yourself t'night wwith all the pitiful askin' y'vve done me, I'm surprised you're embarrassed at me sayin' anything t'y'at all about anythin'. I thought you wwere immune t'things like bein' embarrassed."

"Not really."

"Wwell I'll havve t'throww my misconceptions out th'wwindoww then, 'cause if you're embarrassed by your askin' things your bravvery knowws no bounds."

"Shut up and play with my fucking hair, asshole."

"That's fair."

He itches behind his ear too and oh _jesus lord almighty oh he's s o cute,_ with the way he snuggles in closer. It's not fair. It's not _fair,_ his heart says, he can't take it and it's squealing at him so loud he might as well be squealing himself. It courses through his fingers and he's so sure Karkat can hear the way it squeals too, when he nestles his head in a more comfortable position. It might kill him to keep going if it's more of this, but for Karkat? He'll die.

"Can you talk some more?"

"Y'just told me t'shut up Kar."

"I know but, I want to hear you."

His heart bounces out of his throat and he, almost trembles. Hot. Everything is hot, and it's different feelings, a deep red flame. Not something you say, here, Karkat.

"Phrasin' Kar."

"Sorry. I want to listen to you talk, is what I mean."

"Y'really find it that calmin' huh? I alwways thought my vvoice wwas annoyin' as all hell seein' as no one evver wwanted t'talk t'me an' I do havve a funny accent. I'vve been wworkin' on it as much as I can but it doesn't like t'go awway, unfortunately. Creates some real problems wwhen people wwho ain't used t'it ask me t'clarify somethin' for them an' I havve t'wwrite it dowwn."

"It's not that hard to understand."

"I dunno, humans find a lotta relativvely mild Alternian speech quirks hard t'listen t'an' understand."

And he realizes Karkat is getting exactly what he wants, because Eridan can't learn to shut his mouth sometimes, and hold on a second, why the fuck is he doing this?

"Wwait you're supposed t'be sleepin'! Goddamnit. Th'more I talk th'longer you're gonna stay awwake an' then you'll be up 'till th'ass crack a-"

"Well, you did promise me you'd stay up with me."

Did he?

"... R, Right, I did, didn't I?"

He pulls his hand away in his thoughts and Karkat whimpers. He doesn't hear it. That's a good thing.

"Hey, I have a TV in here."

"Yeah? Wwhat th'hell wwould y'evven wwanna wwatch this early in th'mornin'?"

"Something you'll give commentary on."

"Y'really wwanna hear my fuckin' garbage vvoice _that_ badly?"

"It'll help me fall to sleep."

Does he really want to turn it on, though? The noise and the bright lights will blare and they won't-right, he just remembered he promised to stay up. No sleep. Right, right.

He adjusts himself so that he can find the remote, presses the power button and turns the channel to some bullshit he doesn't care about. He said commentary, right? Karkat cuddles into him, ear resting over his sternum and arm clutching at his side. His hand is close to his side gills, so he moves it up a bit. If his fingers curled on those he can't imagine the pain he'd be in. He sits and he babbles on. Karkat only gets more frustrated, though, and he tries to reach for the remote. His arms are too short. He doesn't make a move to get up.

"The TV is too loud, I can't hear you when you talk."

"Lemme turn it dowwn then, Kar."

He's following every little order, a dedicated servant to his ruler. Oh, how the tables have tabled, he thinks, as he turns it down so it's just enough to be heard, without it ever having a chance of mixing with his voice.

"Better?"

"Mmhmm."

He drawls on and on and on and Karkat eats it all up, barely listening enough to pay attention but reveling in it all the same, telling him to keep going when it starts to die off. It's more difficult to think of things to talk about than he thought, with boring garbage like this. It's some shitty soap opera that shouldn't have any business running on TV, and as soon as he's done ranting about it, he can't manage to press the remote button, even. Slowly drifting off to sleep, until Karkat speaks up.

"I forgot to get you your yogurt."

An interesting thing to say so late at night. "I got my owwn Kar, I told y'y'didn't havve t'bribe me t'come ovver."

"It wasn't a bribe."

"Like I wwas gonna let you get it anywway."

"I mean if I had went to get it without you knowing you couldn't have stopped me."

"I wwoulda paid for it then."

"You would have but I would have fought over it."

"Damn right you wwoulda."

"I might have won."

"Nah, I'm too much a'a prick t'let my pride go ovver some fuckin' yogurt."

"I don't think you're as much of a prick as you believe yourself to be."

"You're right. I'm more a'one."

"You're not, so if I argue with you will it help you think of things to say?"

Of course, the sly little fucker. He can feel the grin he has through the fabric of his pajama shirt, the way his lips curl as he bathes in triumph. He tries to remember how they look, but he can't. His face is the only memory he can't hold onto, but the only one he wants to have more than anything. A pang in his heart. Heartburn, too, but then he remembers Karkat's silly little game and he's okay for a little bit.

"I think if y'didn't bother arguin' I might find some nonsense t'babble about for y'if you'd like that, Kar."

"Yeah <3"

He flips it to a different channel and though he's in danger of passing out any minute now, he talks like he'll cease to exist if he stops. Happy. It makes him happy, and so he'll bring him that happiness, because he can provide. He feels him yawn after a long while, maybe hours, maybe less than that. Eridan pulls a hand to draw shapes in his back. He hums. Eridan could cry.

"Y'almost asleep Kar?"

"Yeah."

"Wwant me t'turn off th'TV noww?"

"Yeah."

A quick press to the power button, and everything is bathed in darkness. He can't see, at all, but still manages to feel for the nightstand and place the remote, and his glasses, down and away from the both of them. Now, even if he looks at him, he won't be able to see it. Being blind is nice sometimes.

"Y'okay wwith me bein' quiet noww, Kar?"

"I think so."

He snuggles further in, but shivers slightly.

"Can you pull the blanket at the edge of the bed up?"

"Sure."

Eridan sits up and grunts as he reaches over the bed to grab at the edge, yanks it up as he snaps back down. He can't be bothered to really adjust it, so he flings his arm at the fabric hoping it'll drape in the right places and keep Karkat warm.

"Y'comfortable like this Kar?"

"Hold on."

Another adjustment. They return to where they were before he turned on the TV, only this time he's facing him, legs bundled in his own, arms intertwined with his. He's too tired to care, but his heart sings. Karkat could hear it, if he listened. His face is buried in his neck and he feels his lips move against his gills when he says it.

"Better."

He shivers.

"Anythin' else y'need?"

"Can you play with my hair again?"

"I, I guess I can."

His fingers thread through his soft fluff of hair, and they stay there until they fall to his back with the faint beam of sunlight that falls on his cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally I had written the whole chapter in Karkat's view. I wrote over 8,000 words and it didn't feel right at all and I couldn't figure out what it was. So I decided to write in Eridan's view instead because it's actually much easier for me after I get started. I feel like Karkat falls flat sometimes. I'll go flesh him out in a notebook and/or do some more research on him so that I can bring you a more consistent and well-rounded Karkat. Thanks for being patient, and for those who might be worried about me abandoning this fic before I finish it I promise you I will dig my teeth into the ground and fight until I fucking die before I stop working on this fic. I'll kick my own ass. This bitch may be sick as hell but damn if I won't crush my own bones to write this. 
> 
> I misspelled Chiton because I thought it was Chitin. Nope. Chitin is a polysaccharide similar to glucose and it makes up the cell walls of fungi and the exoskeletons of creatures, including, most likely, those from the Chiton species, as they're in the mollusk family. Chiton is also a type of greek garment so there's that. Fun fact for the day that you probably knew already, given to you by your local dumbass.
> 
> Alternate title summaries:  
> \- Karkat gains a sugar friend  
> \- Eridan gets angry at shitty capitalism because his friend fucking deserves better than this  
> \- Eridan is Super Fucking Gay, in case you haven't noticed
> 
> One more note: It took me so long to update this chapter because I was getting a lot worse with my health stuff, so we went in to another doctor and turns out, my other doctor is a fucking clueless shithead and put me on a set of meds I didn't need, which made my other problems worse AND ended up giving me something else. So that's great. We're working on my meds again but ISTG if I fucking have to go through that shit again I'm gonna scream. SO! As an apology, and as a little treat, take this fucking Forever Long Chapter that'll blow your eyes out of your sockets for being too long. I put dividers in, though! It makes it a little easier to read.


	9. Fresh Static Snow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karkat gets cold

He is awake, but there is nothing to greet him but darkness, and cold, empty sheets.

It's too early for him to be up like this. He must be on his work schedule, still, if he's up before there's any light, he thinks, but then he remembers that it's winter, and he might actually be up too late to go into work, anyway, and it doesn't matter, because he can go back to sleep whenever he wants to. There's no need to compare his current waking hours to his work hours. He doesn't have an alarm on. It would be perfect, right now, so perfect, if he could close his bleary eyes, sink back into his warm, inviting mattress, and dissolve back into his dreams, where he isn't alone, and he has no current responsibilities, and he can be at peace.

Ah, but, see, that's exactly what's keeping him from it, isn't it? And now that he thinks about it, the dark of night is actually his blackout curtain, but he didn't close them. Or maybe he did. He's concerned that last night might have been the result of a fever dream from catching a cold, or that he got into some sort of hallucinogen, or that he's been sleeping for days and it was all a sweet, elaborate dream, designed only to make him loathe the reality he would eventually come to. And right now? He sure as hell does. He would like to go back to running around aimlessly in the dim light of his room, carpet sinking between his toes with every spring forward, running away when there's nothing to run from because it's fun. Because he can. And then he could get caught again, could be wrapped in his arms, feel his heartbeat against his back, be scolded only lightly, just enough for him to know that he should be more careful, that he should stop whipping the cold air into his wet hair before the frost cakes the ends of it, and he gets sick. He'd never tell him that his breathing is colder than the chill of the room; he likes the way it nips at his ears. How it freezes the moisture on his cheeks. How it makes his nose numb. He likes the slight burn against his stomach when his hand ghosts over his shirt. Likes how when his chest expands with his breathing he feels that same burn light up all the nerves in his back, one by one, like twinkling fairy lights or sparking candles. Like constellations popping out from the dark. Cold that draws his own warmth forward, breathing that makes his own lungs heave, steady rhythm of his heart that becomes volatile and ruthless, like fire, flames that burn until there's nothing left to burn and then still, still, keep going. He must have known, though. Must have known it made him cold, because he thinks he almost tried to dry his hair for him, or run the warm air over his body, run all the pleasant sting out of him and make a new kind of sting sear at his insides from deep in his stomach-

Before his mind runs off. Before then, let's gather our thoughts. It's dark, it's cold, it's lonely. Lonely, and he thought he tried to keep it from being so, but his sheets are barren, and when he presses a hand to the mattress there's no indent, no warmth. They smell like him, faintly. Just a touch, like spraying water at an arm's length. Not enough. Not enough to be real, and he bunches the sheets between his fingers, tries to cling to the ghost of something he never had, and never knew he wanted, until he woke up and it was already gone.

If a dream is so beautiful that being without it makes tears prickle at your skin, is it really a dream, or is it a nightmare, twisted and cruel and brutal?

Going back to sleep might warp whatever's there into something deeper, and he contemplates it, for a moment. It would be nice to have. All to himself, where no one else would know about it. Something for his heartache, for his troubles. It's selfish of him, and confusing, too. He doesn't feel that way, really, and he shouldn't go chasing paths he's not sure he's willing to follow, or he'll be halfway down the path with no way to turn around and he'll have to dig a new one and create this big, ugly tear in its side, rip up all the grass to expose raw and grainy dirt beneath it. A scar. Deep, and jagged, uneven and raised around the edges. Knotted, big, twisted clumps of grist and his hands would be gritty and stained with the colors the earth would bleed, moist, blackened. And then he'd close his hand, and everything would dissipate, vaporize because he is heat. His heart is savage and malevolent and it does what it wants at the cost of everything, and here, he would have to force it from its cage, wouldn't he? When it's too late. And he would follow his new path, that he tore from the earth, shredded from its rind, and the earth would char beneath the soles of his feet. All of it, dry and cracked and blackened, like coal. No more growth. No more new, because he'd burn the nutrients deep down below, too. All of it, gone. A scar, scorched and carved and permanent. Somewhere, he doesn't know where, but maybe it would be on his own heart, or worse.

Or worse.

So, he won't go back to sleep, then. For the better. But then, what does he do? He doesn't want to move, doesn't want to watch anything, when there's nothing to watch. There's places he'd rather be, but it's not with his friends, right now. Too much. All too much. He doesn't want to be alone, either. There's nothing wrong with being alone, he likes being alone, most of the time, when he's always out with people, where he has no say in what's going on, dragged along by the wrist. It's the empty sheets, isn't it? There was supposed to be someone there. Someone to fill the dull aching in his heart, if only for a night. And, maybe for the next morning, when he was supposed to wake up next to him and remember he wasn't alone.

He's stupid. He's so, so stupid, but he'll look a fool if he doesn't have to spend the next one by himself again.

Karkat: HEY ERIDAN UM

I DON'T REALLY KNOW IF I CALLED YOU OR NOT YESTERDAY BUT

CAN YOU COME OVER?

Biting his tongue, thick muscle curled over the edge of his teeth to stop his breath from seeping through. A clink, from out beyond his door, though everything is meant to be still as his heartbeat. But his heart tears through the sound barrier and reverberates in his walls, parrots back at him, mocking, mocking always. Look at how afraid he is. How his fingers twitch and flutter and how his shoulders tense, how his stomach tightens at the slight nausea. _Look at how afraid he is,_ they laugh, _so fearful that it rings from his chest cavity like a fax machine or a victorian telephone._ _Something loud and unsightly, beastly and unwelcome within his own body. Look at how he lets it run. Look at how it swallows at all it touches until it has consumed everything in its cacophonous wailing. Look,_ they say, _look at how silly he is, to think he could own his mutant heart without it devouring his whole being._

<3: Kar you absolute fiend I'm in th'kitchen

Relief swells in his muscles, in all the empty parts of his chest. Of course, of course. He doesn't know why he failed to have trust in his own memory, but it's not like it amounts to anything, in the end. He's not bearing the weight of the world on his shoulders anymore.

Karkat: OH THANK FUCK

WHY THE HELL AREN'T YOU IN BED?

I SCARED THE SHIT OUT OF MYSELF THINKING I HALLUCINATED SHIT

He paints himself foolish by outing himself. He wouldn't have seen, wouldn't have known. He'll regret it when he comes to, but at the moment he is immersed, and has an antibody against self-awareness.

<3: Wwell Kar I figured you'd like some breakfast y'knoww an' seein' as I wwoke up a feww hours ago I decided t'do some wwork around th'house too

Karkat: YOU FUCKING WHAT

<3: I mean y'cleaned up pretty wwell but I didn't wwant y't'havve t'wworry about dishes or trashes an' I prefer th'sink an' counters clean before I make food anywway

Oh, dear lord,

Karkat: TELL ME YOU HAVEN'T MADE BREAKFAST YET

<3: I havven't, I wwas just about t'start on it Kar but I wwas busy runnin' some laundry

Ohmygod,

Karkat: YOU SOUND SO FUCKING DOMESTIC RIGHT NOW

<3: Sorry Kar

Karkat: IT'S OKAY

IT'S KIND OF CUTE

Cute enough that his heart flits in its cage, that he nips at the tip of his tongue to kill his smile before it can ever be born. He doesn't understand.

UM WE SHOULD ACTUALLY GO OUT FOR BREAKFAST IF YOU'RE OKAY WITH IT

I CAN PAY

His fingers dash off before his common sense can apprehend them. Curses, fucking hell, damnit, curses! The way his pulse races with them, too, will send him to an early grave, where they'll write about how he spoke too quickly and without filter, and, possibly, how it drove Eridan mad enough for him to smite him in his sleep.

<3: Shut th'fuck up Kar I'm fuckin' payin' for breakfast an' if you wwanna go out for breakfast wwe can fuckin' go out I'll fuckin' take you t'th'fuckin' greatest breakfast joint there fuckin' is around here an' I wwon't havve y'eatin' anywwhere a'lesser quality

Karkat: DON'T GET FUCKING PRETENTIOUS ON ME

I MAY NOT BE ABLE TO KEEP YOU FROM PAYING BUT ONE DAY

ONE DAY I'LL GET YOU BACK FOR IT

THAT SOUNDS THREATENING BUT REALLY I JUST WANT TO FEEL LIKE LESS OF A BURDEN AND YOU DESERVE GOOD THINGS I THINK

ANYWAY I HAVE SHIT TO DO TODAY UNFORTUNATELY AND WE SHOULD GO OUT FOR COFFEE

<3: I'm uh

Wwell I'm in th'kitchen but I can alwways pick somethin' up an y'can get a head start on some errands if y'havve stuff t'do in th'house?

It doesn't evven havve t'be official breakfast I can just pick y'up some coffee if y'wwant an' then wwhen it gets t'be like three or somethin' wwe can go out t'eat?

Karkat: WAIT WHAT FUCKING TIME IS IT

<3: It's actually around noon Kar

Wwe'vve got some time t'decide wwhat wwe're doin' t'day before wwe go anywwhere y'knoww?

Uh

I can also make y'some but I mean I havve a car an' I don't think you'll like the blend I'vve got

Karkat: You brought me coffee?

<3: Wwell yeah

But I dunno if it's really your taste

Karkat: You're a fucking dork

You can go pick me up some coffee I guess but when you get back I'll need your help getting some things cleared out of the basement

So if you want to go and eat breakfast or lunch or whatever afterward you might not want to wear anything nice beforehand unless you want to risk it getting all dusty and dirty which I'm sure you won't like

<3: Oh lucky me I'm still in my PJs

I'm an embarrassment t'society

I'vve been awwake for hours an' still I havven't bothered t'change outta my pajamas Kar

It's noon Kar

I'm a filthy fuckin' degenerate

Karkat: Nah

Pajamas are comfier than clothes

And you know, like, I'm also in my pajamas

<3: Yeah but I'm puttin' off wwakin' my brain up t'th'possibility that I'm doin' things t'day

Karkat: I guess

<3: Anywway I'm gonna go get y'your coffee Kar

I'll text y'wwhere I'm at an' ask y'wwhat y'wwant wwhen I'm there okay?

Karkat: Okay

Thanks Eridan

<3: No prob Kar

A sigh that sprouts from beneath his ribs, tangles in his lungs and flowers, there, in dense clusters that hang down like wisteria branches. He settles back into his mattress, wrestling with the thickness of his covers, too, for a moment, until he gets situated.

Soundless weight gunks up the air, packs the room down with frigid temperature. January was supposed to be colder than this. Why, then? Why is the room disarranged and why is it foreign to lay on his back and why, why, does the spot next to him feel abandoned? It's routine. It's been routine for the entirety of his existence and one, one night, one obscure outlier out of every witching hour he's slept through and this is what he's left with. He's sunk into his bed, still, but he fidgets, stiffens while he brawls his inner turbulence. His wool quilt, too, though hefty and thickset, falls short of keeping the chill from his bones. It'll take him a struggle and a half to throw off his sheets.

... But,

Karkat: Wait I wanna go with you

<3: Damnit Kar wwe just decided on somethin'

But I guess I don't mind

Wwould be nice t'havve company wwhile drivvin' y'knoww?

Hurry up an' hop in th'car then you'vve got like twwo minutes before I book my ass outta here t'get y'coffee anywway

Karkat: Yessss

The quilt is a minor inconvenience when his being is filled with vigor and a purpose, though small, though he had one waiting for him already. It's a more favorable purpose. One that isn't taxing or painful, one that has him flinging his door open, heels grinding to spring into a bolt-

<3: Get your shoes on though there's snoww outside

Karkat: Thanks for the warning

Right. Haste will only lead to impetuous decisions, and he'll end up sick. Though, maybe he'll stay longer if-that's selfish of him. He slips his boots on, and yanks a small blanket he'd accidentally flung to the floor out of its place, so he can hurry along before he's left behind.

The wind bites hard enough to shred when it pulls away from his skin and the snow falls in fat, shimmering crystals that shatter when they grace the ground, that powder everything in a cloak of static rain, white noise, ringing bells pulled from a distant memory and glacial cold that sweeps over even the warmest of hearts, the scent of frozen clean and faint pine needles. In a tapioca flurry that whips up icy peaks and fresh dust. Most of it is left untouched, unbroken, with the exception of his footfall, and Eridan's footprints, too, that stretch out to the foot of his car, where he's shucking a thin sheet of ice from his window, audibly. Only his silhouette is noticeable. He navigates through the gray soupiness of the sky until he can. Something is hidden in his other hand, he's bundled in thick padding (good, he's so cold himself,) with a scarf he's never seen before, but looks equally as worn as his old blue one, and twice as long. Enough to drape over his shoulder. It reminds him of the cape he used to wear, when it hangs like that, free and flowing and lashed around in the gale.

"Sorry, just a minute."

"Need any help?"

"No, I'vve got it."

Eridan's breath forms jellied vapor clouds, sticks to the air and even forms a slight frost on his scarf. That cold? It was raining not so long ago. He tilts his hat up over his fogged up glasses and throws his gaze over his shoulder, but his hand stills and his feet swerve his body to face Karkat, mouth quirked into a soft frown.

"Kar, y'barely havve anythin' on!"

He trudges through the snow, closer, to him, and Karkat isn't sure if it's out of anger or curiosity. "You told me you were leaving in two minutes what the fuck was I supposed to do?!"

And then something is shoved to his chest, hand pressing just above his reddening knuckles. He's closer, still, arms almost flat against him, hovering maybe a horn's length away (whose horns? He doesn't know, can't tell,) to where the lilac tinge of his cheeks and deep plum of the tip of his nose are oh, so intimate to his gaze, and still his eyes flicker away from his. How dare he? How dare he make a point to be so near and still avoid his face?! And when his eyes are so vivid and animated, strikingly graphic. What is he afraid of? Is he afraid he'll read him? Or is he disgusted by his image, somehow? He wishes he could figure it out, only, he can't, because he won't let him look directly into them, those emotional, telling eyes. But he's directed instead, to his purpled lips, glistening with just a touch of moisture, or frost, maybe, that move elegantly even in the stiffening cold.

"S'good thing I kneww you'd hurry, or y'd'havve t'go back inside an' get this."

It's terrible of him to think. It is, but he thinks anyway, of what it might be like to kiss them, how pillowy they would feel against his own, the way they'd glide together with every twitch, how they might turn every shade of violet if he pulled them underneath his teeth to nibble on. Ugh, how they'd taste. They'd be a fucking snack, wouldn't they? With how thick and plump they are, how they look softer than freshly steamed pork buns oh fucking hell, shit, _fuck._ His stupid fucking confused brain and his stupid thing for lips and how stupidly close Eridan is, none of it is fair, none of it is _fair-_

"Kar, are y'gonna put it on, or...?"

He gets whiplash when he sees Eridan's eyes veer ever so slightly in his direction, flutters that dance up his spine, and it brings him back to the present moment (though, it's not enough for him to say there's a possibility he's looking at him, and he hates it.) He brings a hand out from the safety of his blanket to wrap it around whatever he might be holding out to him. He, ends up clutching Eridan's hand. Not, a terrible arrangement, but the drunken manner his heart babbles in when Eridan doesn't immediately cower away from him has his cheeks tingling, like spiced cider poured over pop rocks. Eridan draws his hand from his grasp in a languid motion, though Karkat doesn't notice until it's already gone. His knuckles pop as he bunches his hand in a fist.

"I, right. Sorry, sorry."

"S'fine, Kar. Here, wwould y'start the car for me? It'll take a bit t'get toasty in there but it'll certainly be wwarmer than out here in th'cold."

Eridan moves back to the window, the scraper grating against the glass like fuzz against teeth and they both wince. He's glad he's not the one who has to do it, though he wants to help. He pulls the item up to inspect it, instead-

The jacket Eridan drove down here with. He, wore this inside, probably would have put it on himself, if he was going alone. It's a lot puffier than the one he's wearing, he notes-and that one, too, is his jacket, but it's the one Karkat ended up with last time. Is this his way of giving him one? But it's just as worn as the other...

Stupid, fucking, _blood-pusher_ , shut up or he'll hear you.

"... Yeah, sure thing."

Footsteps crunching as he gets far enough away to not be seen, just outside of his peripheral vision (and far away enough to hear a lot less of that grating noise, dear god, it's fucking irritating.) And then, he smooshes the jacket in his face and takes a deep breath in. The scent is still strong, and there's a hefty overtone of mulling spices to it that must be from cooking, along with a smidge of wood and... paint? It's a weird mix of smells, but shit, it works better than anyone could have guessed. He puffs out air, sigh curling into a small smile, shrugs it on underneath his blanket to find it already enveloping him with warmth. He couldn't have kept it this snug for him out here, with how the cold tears through his core. He had to have been wearing it just before he came out.

He's going to fucking die.

He flubs with the car door, to get in, maybe, before he promptly goes into cardiac arrest. Locked. Right, okay, that makes sense, kind of.

"Uh, where are your keys?"

"Oh! Right, uh, th'coat pocket."

He crams his hand into both pockets, but his fingertips brush through something soft? What-oh. His hat, and Eridan's keys bundled inside. How the hell he even found that thing in Karkat's hell-hole of a coat closet is beyond his level of understanding, because Karkat can't tell his head from his ass when he opens it. God, that shit needs some organizing he doesn't have time for right now. Into the car he goes and holy jesus fucking christ his ass is fucking freezing. Thank god for this jacket. Which, he realizes, has something else in the other pocket, so he tugs it out, his own gloves unraveling from the scarf they were swaddled in and falling into his lap. He fucking, planned this from the moment he got up. What a bastard. What a fucking beautiful bastard.

Gloves and hat? On, bitch. Keys in the ignition, cranking those fuckers up like some night club DJ till the car roars and purrs, bathes Eridan in its headlights. He didn't know he'd be right in front of him, and it seems Eridan couldn't have guessed, either, because they both jump back a little. Karkat nervously waves through the window with a tiny, timid smile, Eridan returns it with a wave of his own. He thinks he can see the edges of his lips twitch up just the faintest bit, or maybe it's his imagination. It's out of place, jarring, too. Why?

Tucking his legs up on the seat in order to retreat further into his blanket (and, wrapping his scarf around his neck, as he forgot to do it while outside,) Karkat does nothing more than sit back and watch him work. He's gotten into the rhythm of scraping, figured out a way to get all the ice off without that harsh screech of sharp plastic on glass, and he's attentive, wedges the point of his tool between where the ice and the window are melded together to pry it off. He's more interested in his darkened knuckles, though, how his hands are practically the same shade as his lips. He thought he'd be more careful with himself. Maybe he'll give him his gloves when he-no, no. His fingers are longer than his, they wouldn't fit. He can do more. He can shove them in his coat pockets, or warm them with his own, rub them between his gloves and maybe the friction will bring them back to their natural color. He might keep one for himself, if Eridan can manage without it. Selfish of him, yes. He doesn't know if he'll bother to fix that.

Onto the other half he goes, and Karkat's eyes shift to the inside. He's been in here before, and there's not much to see; it's clean, he doesn't use air freshener, though there's a few cinnamon sticks tied together with a sachet of clove and anise, and there's a bit of loose change and a ballpoint pen in the cupholder. His keychain is this cute little bobbly thing with stars and a constellation, accompanied by his sign. Karkat's happy he can still feel a healthy pride for it. There's also a glass mosaic slime from, he forgot the game? Slime Ranchers? He thinks that's it, but he hasn't played a single player game in a long time. And, an itty, plush hermit crab with a purple shell and full, round eyes, maybe the size of a quarter, if that. It's packed full, barely squishes at all between his fingers. He's curious as to what importance they hold, but it's more likely that he picked them up as they caught his eye, like half of the living collective. Karkat's is just a hoop and a house key on his sad gray lanyard. That's fine, he thinks. He'll keep his eye out for a few good ones, maybe one similar to crabdad.

The heat on the inside is set to 60 but it feels more like -10. Karkat taps the button for the seat warmer, after he manages to find it, and then Eridan's, too, for when he comes in. As much as he'd like to have an excuse to get close, they don't really have time for it. Errands, housework, maybe a few papers to catch up on, too. God, he can't fathom why he's put so much on his own plate. It's all necessary, though he could afford to wait until he has some time off that's not meant for vacation, but he figures if he's got nothing else to do... why not? The sooner he gets them done, too, the more time he can spend free with him, right? Whatever he wants to do. He doesn't care, even if it's some stuffy shit like going to an art museum. He's never been one to stand in a quiet spot and stare blankly into an equally blank canvas that offers nothing but introspection, when he could be enjoying, like, art on the internet. The invention of drawing tablets has improved the quality of his life greatly.

He tried it with Equius once, and then Nepeta. Equius was ever-looming and eerie, getting lost in everything for too long, like he was slipping away into another world through the offered sanctity of the piece. A connection still unbroken when he moved to the next, weaving a twisted chain of portals that threatened to suck you in if you got too close. Terrifying to stand next to. His criticism and thoughtful insight was interesting to listen to, so it wasn't the worst trip he's had. Nepeta, though? Too loud, always bouncing around and exerting an energy and intensity that everyone seemed to part for, that had heads turning and people staring. They weren't being critical in their glares, no, but being the center of attention? In a place built for people to teach themselves how to pay attention? He won't do that again. He adores Nepeta and her bubbly demeanor, but fuck, man. He's not taking Sollux, or Gamzee, who would prefer something interactive, most likely, or Tavros, because he'd be too scared to navigate the museum without clinging to someone's arm. He's gotten a lot better, but his anxiety soars through the roof when there's a crowd of humans, thinking someone will end up throwing a punch at him for being a troll and existing on earth. His fear isn't unfounded.

Would Eridan be exactly like Equius, though, if they went together? Maybe? He always got the feeling that Equius' intentions were to cut through you with his eyes, know every part of your being. Eridan's curiosity always lit up his eyes, made them twinkle when he was observing something. And it was with care, and some sort of whimsy, and the airiness of his fascination would strike flutters in anything he dare to look at. Maybe Karkat's being a fucking dorkus, though. Probably.

He's always been a hard worker, throwing himself into every task with a fervent need to see it come to fruition, so he doesn't doubt he'll be a great help getting things done. He's thought about asking him before, but told himself he'd be busy with other things. Maybe he could help with his coat closet, after everything is said and done-

Eridan could have given Karkat one of his own coats at any time. Could have picked more than one to layer up, too. 

He, hides his smoldering cheeks in his scarf, though Eridan wouldn't be able to see it from his side of the window anyway.

Just in time, too, as the car door opens on the other side, blasts a gust of freezing air in his face, and Eridan hops into the driver's seat, closing the door behind him. He's shuddering, almost quaking with how violently his muscles contract, folding in on himself to hold in body heat. He blows air into his hands but from the way he shivers, it must be cool air, and he ends up shoving them between his legs. Nuh-uh, not today. It's go time.

"Hey, can I see those for a second?"

"See, wwhat?"

"Your hands."

Eridan's probably giving him-or, uh, the dashboard, more likely, a quirked eyebrow or two underneath those frozen lenses. "Sure."

He pulls them out for him and Karkat doesn't leave a single second left for the chill to get to them when he shoots for his hands like a mantis shrimp on a fucking mission to kill. He vigorously rubs his hands over them until the fabric of his gloves starts to chew away at his skin, gives him rugburn that'll leave them raw and fleshy. But, now that he's got a closer look at Eridan's hands, he sees the cuts and scrapes, some fresh and new and still bleeding, some a little older, perhaps.

"What in the hell did you even do with these?"

"Oh. I wwas wworkin' on my shed yesterday, an' then th'ice is pretty damn sharp. Got some splinters in 'em an' had t'pull 'em out. I forgot t'change my bandages after I wwoke up an' took 'em off, I guess."

"Why in the-you know what? At least you made the effort to clean them up. Can you do me a favor and wear gloves next time, please? They don't even have to be thick ones, they just have to protect your hands from shit like that."

"I uh, sure, Kar, if it makes y'feel better about it."

"Thank you."

He turns them over a few times, just to make sure he's, seeing them right. They practically make a hand of their own, with how many he has right now, they're so torn up. What was he thinking? Did he somehow think the wood would be merciful? Did he think the ice was going to yield so easily? He's definitely not as careful as he previously credited him, if he's so careless, but Karkat isn't in a place to judge, he supposes. It must be painful. Did he not feel it, then? Did the cold numb them enough for him to work with them? Now he feels bad for being so aggressive with them, he could have ripped something open.

He, reluctantly drops them back in Eridan's lap once he sees they've returned to their normal color, and goes searching through his glove box. There! That pair. He chucks them at him, and they hit his cheek with a soft 'pap'! Utterly mortified (because who wouldn't be,) he makes a move to apologize, but nothing comes. His cheeks are even darker than his hands were, nose and fins dusted in little flakes of snow that he didn't catch. He grunts. How is he supposed to move his mouth like that?

"Uh, excuse me for a second, here."

"Wwh-"

He cups his cheeks in his mittened paws and kneads his fingers gently into them, watching them smoosh and lighten under his touch. They're so fucking cold, but they're really soft, and kinda chubby, like puffy little popcorn cheeks. They tense with the third or fourth press of his fingers, however, and so do his neck, shoulders, and his jaw muscles. Looking away, again. Always. Just once, Eridan? One look? No? Okay. Fine. That's cool. He'll get it one day.

"... Oh. Okay."

Ah, yes. Doing things on impulse means forgetting to take into account that Eridan might be... uncomfortable. "Sorry, I can-"

"No, feels nice." In fact, he's leaning into his touch (though if he pointed it out, Eridan would do his best to bolt as far away from him as he could manage before he eventually killed himself out of exhaustion.) He fucking, adores the way his cheeks cushion and pool slightly, how fluid they are. He keeps his eyes closed. He thinks he prefers that over avoidance, that maybe it's a sign of comfort and when he opens them he'll be looking right at him. His thoughts sound, super gay. He promises it's just overwhelmingly strong pale feelings that untether themselves from their leashes and stalk at the edges of his thoughts, that shred at his heart until it bleeds red.

He doesn't want to dig that path. He's counting on walking the right path, the first time, so he'll stall at the threshold until he's thrown into the momentum of his true desires, the ones that will eventually lead to happiness. Hopefully. He's not sure becoming a therapist was the greatest idea his heart has ever had.

So, before he can become unfaithful to its longing, he removes his hands. And then it screams at him to put them back, howls of his betrayal, of his mutiny. Put them back. Put. Them. _Back._ A refusal is only futile if Eridan asks for them, so he'll beat at it until it cowers away and hides in its hole, until he can sweep it back into its box and lock it with every lock he can pick from his brain. Stupid little heart. You are running with the wolves, with the beasts that dwell in the inked outreaches of his being, and he won't allow you to persist. He won't let you become the solar storm you're destined to be. Not yet, at least. Not until you can eat every wretched monster and still believe wholeheartedly that you've always been one of them, and their desires were always yours.

"Thanks Kar."

"No prob."

It retreats as Eridan gloves up, and he sighs in relief. He's won a very small battle, and maybe he'll be less stupid and weirdly touchy, now. He tucks the corner of his blanket in so that he's bundled properly, and stares into the emptiness of the snowstorm. As blank and as empty as all of those art museum paintings that never meant anything to anyone, except for maybe Equius, and everyone else who longs to lose themselves in the nothingness.

"Y'can take a little nap if y'wwant."

"Nah."

"Y'sure? Y'look tired."

He is, but he'll miss his opportunity if he goes to sleep. "I'll be fine."

"Okay, Kar."

He can't miss a single moment when he has so few of them, with him.

Eridan backs out of the driveway and everything is bumpy and rough, but it's fine. The road is plowed and he can let the scenery whisk him away then, if need be. It does jolt his heart into a shaky little corner of bolts and wheels, things that aren't put together but are still bouncing and flying anyway. Don't get stuck here, please. Let him have this morning drive.

But they're free, and then he sighs, and Eridan does, too, giggling only at the end. Karkat can't help chuckling along.

"Y'knoww I really should'vve shovveled the drivvewway before I drovve outta there."

"Who cares?"

"I mean it'll be hard t'get back in."

"I guess you're right, but do you really want to bother with it?"

"Ah, not, not really."

They glide over the weathered asphalt, working with the winter winds as they drive away and into the city. Every moment feels like almost home. The feeling you get when you're on the last light before you hit the turn for your neighborhood, or when you see your driveway at the end of the road. Almost home. He blames it on weird mind beasts. He doesn't know yet. He doesn't know, yet.

"Hey Eridan?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"Hold off on that 'till y'get some coffee in your system."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to update this a while ago and I would go back to this every day and try to figure out what the fuck I was going to do with this chapter. I completely hit a block. Tried writing it in Karkat's view, then Eridan's view, then I wrote another two chapters in Karkat's view and most of the next chapter, too. I wrote over 50 fucking pages before I finally settled, and only saved around like, 11 of those pages (actually more now that I think about it.) God. I had to get one of these out so I could move on to posting the first chapter of one of my other works I'm working on. I also did a shit, ton. Of research on blood color (like, not headcanon research or the hemospectrum chart or anything, like. Why Does That Blood Have That Pigment Scientifically research,) and the possibility of blood having different inherent properties based on it. So...? I don't know, maybe that'll pop up soon (if not soon, later. It will pop up. My fucking work isn't gonna go to waste.)
> 
> I actually decided to shorten this update, though. It was 10,000 words and over, but I didn't want the chapter to be too long? So you guys will hopefully get a treat in the next one, if you're okay with it, that is, and that way I don't have to sit here and add like 5,000 more words to something that's already long as hell.
> 
> I'm also currently dealing with, a lot of things (dogs, second degree burns, weaning me off my meds, etc.) So this chapter kind of ended up being pushed back because my brain is just, scrambled??? I don't feel like any of this is a real excuse for pushing back the chapter but I mean if you wanted to know how I was doing in all that time, like, here it is, kids. Thank you for being patient with me, I really appreciate it cause shit is hard and I really am doing my fucking best, dudes.
> 
> Edit on 9/3/19: This fic will be on hiatus for a SHORT WHILE while I get the first chapter of two or three other fics up (they'll be a part of the series I just put this fic in! The single chapter fic I put up was a warm-up I did late last night/this morning I guess) but it shouldn't go any longer than a month so it's not really a hiatus since that's how long it took me to get this chapter up anyway. If you guys have any prompts you wanna chuck at me or challenges or whatever, feel free to do it so I have a few warm-ups to loosen up the creative sludge block I've got in my head! That thing made it hard to write this chapter ;-;
> 
> Double Edit 9/10/19: FUCK I FORGOT TO MENTION HIS GLOVES WERE BUNDLED IN HIS SCARF I'M FIXING IT RIGHT NOW I'M SO SORRY FDJLKSFJDLKFJ;DSLJ.  
> Oh and on that note, those burns totally scarred, one of them is almost as big as my outstretched hand and to be honest? I think they look kinda cool, though maybe I'm just trying to be positive because I'll never be able to wear shorts again without them being visible and I don't want to hate myself for having them because I look nice in shorts and I'm tired of hating my body anyway.
> 
> Third edit, 10/29/19: I've scrapped a total of like, 12 chapters while working on chapter 10. I promise I am NOT neglecting it, I'm just having a fucking difficult time figuring out what to do next. Expect an update by Halloween, okay? AND! The texts they sent each other weren't properly formatted so I fixed it!!! I hope that makes things a little easier to read.


	10. Late Night, Early Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When it's dark and cold and you're alone, the moment you let your mind take the wheel is the moment you sign off your right to sleep

What if he dies like this and no one knows?

He knew better than to stay up past Eleven PM and now it's his own fault the searing, squeezing pain spreads from the left side of his breast like frostbite, like cold, creeping morning glory twisting its vines through his muscles in corkscrews, knotting itself together in big clumps of tension. His pulse throbs like thunder, in his side, in his arm, up his shoulder and his neck and every thump to his brain causes his vision to lose focus, fuzz up like the static on an old cathode ray tube television and then the static joins in the thunder, prickles and needles and why, why? The blood flowing in his arteries slows as his muscles constrict them. He can feel the way they tighten and tense with every labored breath into his burning lungs, it aches, it aches, and now the right side of his neck, too, and the pounding makes its way through his horns and to the tips of his ears and fins. It's not a heart attack, he knows it's not, that it's just panic, that it'll all go away if he takes a few slow, deep breaths, but as soon as the air hits the bottom of his lungs it forcefully blasts its way out of his body as if someone had dropped a thick slab of stone onto his chest and all the splinters of his ribs punctured holes in them.

Restless. Restless, blind, and terrified out of his mind, his right hand grabs at the empty space in the mattress next to him with the desperation of a man about to lose his life. It always feels like he's about to die. Every time, Every single time and still, here he is, and where the hell is his phone, where the _hell_ is his phone-

There. His nails scratch at the textured plastic of his case and he jerks it to his chest so fast there's an almost hollow echo as he clubs his sternum with it.

Why put him through the pain when he could just die?

His finger barely taps the power button and the white light of his screen pierces through the darkness, through his eyes, blades dig into the back of his sockets and it burns _worse_ and why did he ever decide to go through with this idea? The letters and numbers blend in with his background and nothing makes sense and every attempt he makes at putting in his passcode ends in failure. Fuck, _fuck._ Just one more, please, one more time before he's locked out for another five minutes-

There. Finally. Now, who to call, if anyone at all. Maybe he should take the risk and drive himself to the hospital, but when it's scary like this, it's hard to think right, and he knows, he _knows_ it's just panic-

Karkat.

No, _no,_ he doesn't know what time it is or what he's doing and Karkat doesn't want to be bothered with him, but it's not his choice, is it?

Because his body, wracked with tremors and pain, and, and, and-

_"Hello?"_

A solitary voice cuts through the pain and all he feels is _Karkat._

A moment, just to breathe, a deep breath in, a long heave out, and then another, and another, until he's breathing normally for a few breaths, and then a few more, and he's freaking him out, some stranger over the phone breathing heavily with no other indication there's anyone on the other end. He doesn't inquire, just sits there in his own silence, waiting for him to come out of his panic. It's, well, it's progress, but Karkat isn't speaking and his voice isn't there to tell the pain to go away and it comes back, suffocating him, all of his efforts start unraveling, something, something has to come out, before he can't get it out anymore-

"Kar, I'm, I'm real sorry for callin' this late but-"

_"Eridan? Are you okay?"_

The question always rips the self-control and composure from him, moreso when it's _him,_ when it's said like _that,_ with concern and care and just a little bit of a quaver and how, how is his heart still beating, with the way he says his name?

Eridan can hear the shifting of fabric and a tap on the microphone as Karkat sits up, and he follows lead, pressing his back against the headboard of his bed. Karkat's breathing, then, and he matches pace. A few small noises, he thinks, maybe he's drinking something, but then it's apparent they're noises of worry. Those noises are a sledgehammer to the wall holding it all in and so everything slips freely.

"I ain't, feelin' so good, is all. Can't get t'sleep."

_"Yeah?"_

"Uh, yeah."

No response this time. Of course, of course he bothered him, of course he was sleeping, of course he was stupid to be making this call but he can't hang up now, not when he can almost feel him here, the ghost in his covers turned to him, staring at his cheek as Eridan focuses on the sea urchin shell sitting on the desk at the opposite end of the room, hand moving to rest on his shoulder. He made a mistake. The call will end and that ghost will fade away and he'll be left with regret and everything he wanted to avoid by making this call. The bial cutting rings in his throat as it moves to sting at his tongue leaves a sour, acidic taste in his mouth.

"I, I can hang up if y'wwant-"

_"No no!!! Uh, no, that's okay, I think I'd rather have you stay on the line, if that's alright with you?"_

He's only worried about him, right. Fair. If Karkat had called him like this, he would have wanted him here until he was done with it, regardless of whether or not he was doing something else. But it's _Karkat._ Anyone would want him on the phone. He wonders if Karkat realizes he could be doing anything else right now.

He wonders when he's gonna be told to fuck right off.

"Oh! Uh, a'course, Kar, thank y'for lettin' me talk t'y'cause I knoww y'need th'sleep."

_"No prob, I think I kinda need this too."_

Need, this?

_"Haven't really got to hear your voice in a while, you know?"_

Oh.

Oh no.

"O, Oh, wwell I, I guess you're right, huh? Sorry, I meant t'call more often, but I figured y'wwere busy."

_"I was, but I would have made time."_

Needs this. Misses his voice. Would have gone out of his way to give him just a few minutes. Why? Why, when he doesn't deserve it, but god does it fill his body cavity with sweet, syrupy warmth that chases away the dread and cold of the dark. Karkat. Karkat, telling him these things, Karkat saying _here, Eridan, don't go, I know you called so early in the morning I would have eaten you alive if you were anyone else but I want you here, I'm glad you called,_ and even if it's all a lie he's telling himself, or some cruel, disgusting act of trickery being played on him by his own head, he'll take it. It feels good. Feels nice, to be needed, and to be needed by him.

"Yeah?"

_"Yeah."_

Talking is hard at night, they both know it. No one ever expects it to be this hard to keep things going, even when they want to keep things going, want to sit and listen for hours without ever retaining anything because the only thing that matters is that they're there, together, but here's the thing, it does matter, and they can't go for hours, and if they don't find something to say soon, if Eridan doesn't find something to say soon, the moment will slip through his fingers and he'll have nothing left to get him through the night.

"I uh, huh, I guess I nevver thought about wwhat I'd do if y'picked up or, kept me on th'line. Noww I feel pretty awwkwward 'cause this wwas, my idea."

_"Pfft, you're a dork. I don't mind sitting here in silence, if that's what you need."_

"I dunno if I wwanna havve th'silence there."

_"Neither do I, but I think I can manage it if you're here. I can totally put on some background music or something if you want though."_

"I, Kar I don't mean t'sound like a fool or nothin' like that but y'do realize that's real fuckin' cheesy a'y'right?"

_"How the hell is it cheesy? And you know what, maybe I'm a sucker for cheese, Eridan, maybe I have an insulated purse full of fucking cheese that I tote around just so I can shove cheese in my gullet at any given moment with convenience. Maybe my only goal in life is to live and breathe cheese, Eridan, ever thought about that?"_

He never forgets how much he adores his stupid banter, but he doesn't realize how happy it makes him until he's seeing or hearing it for himself.

"Alright, alright, y'can put th'damn music on, Kar."

_"Yesssssssss"_

More shuffling, and a few bumps, something is knocked over and Karkat curses softly in his slightly gravelly voice, gruff and hissed out in frustration. Noise as he struggles and claws around for what he's looking for and thumps as he hits his paw against what's most likely the hard wooden plane of his nightstand. He can see it, the way he stretches out to it, slightly hunched even as he's reaching in order to keep himself centered on the bed, labored breathing as he's straining at the effort. If he were there, he'd help. It would be easy for him, for him to just reach over and swipe it up and watch Karkat grumble at Eridan for not doing it sooner and having Karkat make an absolute fool of himself. The cutest fool. Always. Everything he could ever dream of, a home he wants more than anything else, but will never have. A click as he taps harshly on a button and some soft ambient music melts its way between them. Karkat huffs proudly, shuffles his way back over to his spot on the bed, and pulls his phone up to his ear, the mic making some feedback noise as it moves through the air.

_"There, back. Sorry, fuck, why do I keep it that far away from me?"_

"Dunno, but that's your fault."

_"Don't lecture me ;-;"_

"Alright, I'll lay off your poor ass for a bit, I mean y'did just expend a wwhole lotta vvaluable labor just t'givve me a bit a'added comfort."

Karkat continues to get settled in, Eridan finding it difficult to keep the phone pressed to his ear in a way that isn't hurtful. The small bit of added pain is worth the trouble, though. Anything for this.

And then he registers what Karkat said earlier about the purse thing, and, he wonders.

"... Please tell me y'don't carry around a fuckin' cheese tote, Kar."

_"If I did would you be disappointed in me?"_

"Only a little but actually I'd be more concerned about your health an' wwell-bein' Kar 'cause that sounds like botulism wwaitin' t'happen an' I wwon't havve it, Kar."

_"So, if I told you, that I did have one, that would be bad, right?"_

"... Kar?"

_"Eridan answer the question."_

"It wwould be, _alarmin'_ Kar an' I dunno howw I'd feel about it."

_"Then I don't have one."_

"That's not exactly reassurin' considerin' y'wwere askin' like y'had one an' y'wwere debatin' on wwhether or not t'tell me."

_"HmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmMMMMM"_

"I'm gonna assume y'havve one anywway an' advvise against its use in th'future an' y'knoww wwhat Kar frankly I'm wworried about your life choices. I mean you're still on th'phone wwith-"

_"SHUT UP THAT'S THE BEST FUCKING LIFE CHOICE I'VE EVER MADE don't you fucking dare Eridan I'll come over there and KICK YOUR ASS do you hear me I may have a little pissbrain made out of pea milk and grub jelly but I know when something is absolute BULLSHIT I make great life decisions regarding my choices in friends and who I decide to hang out with at any given time and no amount of nook kissing is ever going to change that. Go shove your own bulge down your throat right the fuck now if you decide to argue with me further on this point do you hear me Eridan??? I better fucking hear you choking like a little whore slut if you even fucking trY IT-"_

The hiss in his voice turns from irritation to, something else? What is that? It's slightly sultry, and a bit of a growl, too, and he thinks maybe Karkat is about to lose himself in some weird pitch fantasy going on inside his head he's deciding to vocalize. Holy shit, what if he inter- absolutely not, he won't go there today, and he'll put a firm stop to this before his own mind chases itself into corners it shouldn't be entering.

"Kar."

_"Sorry, I... look, Eridan, seriously, I enjoy talking to you, damnit, and I hate hearing from you that your company is a poor life choice when it is literally all I crave."_

_'When it is literally all I crave.'_

It echoes and swells and flows like warmed honey just underneath his skin, coating him in beautiful, genuine feeling that will twist and bitter as soon as he's given a few minutes alone with it. Everything turns caustic in the end, but right now, it's melting the tension in his muscles and he feels breathless.

"Wwhat"

_"NOTHING so like, I'm gonna take my cheese with me and you can't stop me. That's what I've decided now."_

"Okay Kar but, that's actually the wworst decision I'vve evver heard you'vve made."

_"Alright, how about this for compromise? There is no compromise, I continue to tote around my cheese like the tiny little heathenous gremlin I am, and there is nothing you can do to stop my terrible train of life choices, except for come over here yourself and follow me around, everywhere, to make sure I don't have my cheese bag."_

"Kar, are y'tryin' t'tell me somethin'? 'Cause you'd probably be better off just bein' upfront wwith my idiot ass."

_"I'm not saying anything, I'm only throwing ideas out there for you to consider, Eridan, and you know what? Maybe you should consider them. I think it would be a great idea."_

"Kar I don't think you'd really wwanna havve me around EVVERYWWHERE."

_"Do you understand how wrong you are? Do you even know?"_

"Not really."

_"Well you little bastard boy, get your ass over here tomorrow and I'll show you exactly how wrong you are."_

He says bastard boy in a cutesy tone, almost flirtily? In such a way that it makes the elbow he was propped up on buckle and he smacks his horn against the hard wood. Thank god he bit his tongue before he yelped like some tortured puppy, though when he brushes the tips of his fingers just over the impact zone, the pain doubles and he winces, has to bite harder. Any harder and he'll bleed, and maybe he's imagining it, but is that blood on his horn, too? He'll take care of it later. Karkat said tomorrow?

"T'morroww? Don't y'havve wwork that day?"

_"Nope, I don't, but actually I think I'm hanging out with Tavros the first part of the day. We'll be done before two in the afternoon though."_

"Hmm, wwouldn't y'rather havve th'wwhole day t'spend wwith-"

_"Shut the fuck up, before you spew more bullshit, I just asked you to come down here, so do it because I fucking miss your ass okay?"_

Misses him. Doesn't matter how many times he says it, it's just as beautiful and unbelievable every single time, and he can barely handle himself. So he'll yield. Just a bit, for Karkat, tonight. If it's what Karkat wants, what he needs. Anything for Karkat.

"... Okay."

_"Good. You're always so hesitant to do anything with me and honestly I hope that's not a me problem. How the hell do I reassure you that I want you around, dickass?"_

"I, I dunno. I'vve nevver really, had anyone wwant me around before, y'knoww?"

And he's still not sure why Karkat wants to keep him around. Whether it be for selfish reasons (which would be completely warranted, he thinks, considering how selfish Eridan can be,) or whether it be for Eridan's sake, or neither or both, a reason is a reason and that boggles the absolute shit out of him. Anyone being able to imagine a reason to want to put up with him is someone who cares enough to give Eridan a space in their head, even if only for a moment.

But Karkat, he's quiet, eerily so, and there's another shift of his blanket before he almost whispers to himself.

_"... Sorry, I kind of, keep forgetting about that."_

"No, it ain't your fault, Kar."

_"I just, like, kind of expected people to actually hang out with you and shit. I mean that's what they're doing with Vriska, right?"_

He won't lie, he's more than bitter. For Vriska to have received chance after chance to prove herself and to be excused for her abuse and all of that, _shit,_ and Eridan to have been given less than nothing? God, it's the worst, and that's why maybe, he thinks, he would have had to have been worse.

Worse than an abuser. Worse than someone who lied, cheated, and stole from her friends, someone who manipulated them, someone who killed and paralyzed the people she was closest to. Yeah, of course that's him. He's already come to terms with that. So why does it still hurt?

"Vvris also apparently did a bunch of heroic shit I don't knoww about because I wwas dead."

Because he should have died. Because it's what he deserved.

"Y'think I should'a stayed dead, Kar?"

Some nights, he truly believes he was better off being destroyed in a dream bubble.

_"Ah, it's one of those nights."_

"Maybe."

And somehow, the filter and static of the mic and the connection fade into the background with the music and he's hearing Karkat as if he's talking into his ear, right next to him, like if he reached over with his hand, he'd find another to hold.

"I was, pretty fucking terrified that I'd never see you again, actually."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I saw most people come back to life and I was pretty excited to hear you were a sprite, but then you, never really came back."

"Wwell I suppose I got wwhat I deservved, huh?"

"I was pretty sure you didn't even make it into a dream bubble. Or that yours had been destroyed. Or, something. Like, I thought I'd come out of this game and you wouldn't be there, and the last words I ever said to you-"

Everything he deserved, and they burn, still, and they continue to burn every day, and he'll carry them with him until he makes it to his grave. He'd carve them into his skin if he thought it would help to embed it forever in his memory, but he doesn't need to when he can already see them written there, in glowing white ink, toxic and vitriolic and sharp as ever, and every time he looks at his arm, without fail, the heartbreak crushes everything it can get his claws on and he's left to pick up the pieces. He'd see them as the gray of his trollian handle if only the anger in them wasn't so apparent. He wants to peel his skin from his body.

"Nuh-uh, wwe're not goin' dowwn that road t'night, Kar."

"They were TERRIBLE."

"Kar."

"Eridan I know I was angry and afraid and pissed and all of that other bullshit but I didn't really _mean_ it, I was,"

"Kar."

"I was, I was so overwhelmed and then I guess everything just _happened,"_

"It wwas my fault, Kar, an' y-"

"Eridan PLEASE."

And he hears it here, too, and so he stops his train of _Karkat, please stop it, for your sake, for mine,_ and he bumps his head yet again, and this time he's sure it's bleeding. He'll have to hide it with something, maybe makeup, before he heads over.

"I know you lashed out and you totally did kill Feferi and that's awful and all, but every single time I think back on it I realize more and more that while it was wrong, it might not have been completely and totally unwarranted. And it definitely wasn't a surprise, either! Or at least, it shouldn't have been."

.

What.

"Wwhat in th'evverlovvin' fuck d'y'mean by that Kar?"

"I, you know what, I shouldn't have said anything and I think I'll just drop it for now but I wish more people gave you an opportunity to at least _talk_ about what happened. It's not like they're obliged to or anything but I mean. Vriska. VRISKA, Eridan."

There is nothing Karkat has been more wrong about, surely. Eridan's punishment was duly delivered; everyone in the room would have agreed, if they'd had the chance to get a word in themselves, and why is Karkat suddenly questioning his earlier convictions?

"Yeah, so?"

"You are clearly not getting what it is I'm saying."

"Ain't it obvvious Kar? I mean I'm a bit a'a dumb fuck."

"Eridan."

"Sorry."

"It's, okay. I'm sorry too. I can get a little carried away with shit."

"Me too, Kar. It's fine."

It's not. It isn't fine, but it's not his fault, is it?

They give the tension some time to dissolve in the music, and he swears, the way Karkat brushes his hand over his sheets feels like he's looping his arm around his waist. He doesn't know whether to be resentful of his inability to feel it or grateful that he isn't there to destroy his dignity in front of his best friend. What would he do, if it happened? Would he finally snap? Would he turn to him and pull him back under the covers and tug him closer by the hips as he kissed him goodnight?

Karkat, luckily, breaks the thought train before it passes the next stop.

"So,,,"

"Uh, yeah Kar?"

"April is coming up."

"... And?"

"I, I mean, what are you planning on doing for your 11th sweep?"

His... What the fuck is he talking about? His Eleventh sweep isn't for...

"Kar."

"What?"

"My 11th swweep ain't 'till Novvember 29th. Wwhere did y'get th'idea that it wwas as soon as April, Kar?"

Is that more cursing he hears?

"Oh, mygod I am terrible at math."

"Ain't yours in April a'next year though?"

And even more cursing, and he hears Karkat leave the bed and oh god why did he even say anything? Please, come back, he can't do this alone, it's too much, it's-

"God fucking DAMNIT you're right! Shit!"

Ah, a shout from across the room. He's checking his calendar, or, at least, the one he has in his room. Why does he have four calendars? He'll never know, but it's interesting to see all of the notes he leaves on them in scribbly red pen and gray pencil, some tiny, some so big they take up two rows of calendar squares, and all over the calendar, in the margins, over the month and the days and outside the lines and running onto the sticky notes he tacks to the edge of the paper so he can write more. He scribbles down notes like he doesn't have a mind to remember with. It's good for Eridan, though, as curious as he is, when he wants to get a look into Karkat's head, even though trying to decipher a page is like asking for someone to whisk his brains into a fluffy, foamy gel.

"Kar you're th'fuckin' cutest thing sometimes."

"I, guess we have a while to plan what we're doing, then?"

... What they're doing? He'll spend his eleventh sweep with him? But it's not like Karkat won't have other things going on, then, right? He'll have more time off as it's the holidays, sure, and that's time he could be giving to other things, and maybe he didn't hear him right, but he'll respond in kind.

"Y'really are thinkin' 'bout plannin' somethin' this early in th'year for Novvember, Kar?"

"I don't know, I think it'd give us the opportunity to make it really nice, and maybe we could make our plans longer than just a day or two, if you'd like?"

For longer. For _longer,_ than a day. Not just the day of his eleventh, but maybe the day before, and the day before that, and Karkat's making it sound like this is some sort of anniversary date- no. That's Eridan's mushy, ill-practiced quadrant brain. That's what's gotten him into every mess he's ever been in. But that much time with Karkat, for this?

"Y, Yeah, yeah, okay, wwe'll think about that, don't wwanna hog y'too much though-"

"Eridan, shut the fuck up, hog the SHIT out of me. I am giving you full permission right now to just tug me away from anything and everything at any given time. Do you even understand? I could be in the middle of skiing or some shit and you could wait for me at the middle of the mountain and yell at me to get my ass over there and I would, and then I'd pack my shit up and follow you. Steal me away, thieve me all you want, goddamnit Eridan I want your friendship"

There's little bursts of feeling in his chest, like overfilling a water balloon and having it pop and splash pleasant, balmy liquid all over his insides, that seeps through his skin and swaddles him in a snug blanket of affection.

"Kar I adore y'but I ain't wwillin' t'make people mad ovver-"

"I am though. I am so willing it's not even funny. If there's a choice between listening to their dusty asses and spending time with you I'm gonna fucking pick you even if it pisses them the fuck off. They demand every bit of my attention and I want you to do the same."

"Kar."

"What?"

"Be reasonable, you'd hate it if I did that all th'time."

"You still have my permission, because I know you'll use it wisely, okay? I would not hand this to someone like Terezi."

"That's fair, Kar."

A long pause. Nothing that isn't bridged by song or breath, but a pause all the same, that gives him an opportunity to reflect on everything, one he chooses not to take, in favor of getting lost in the soft ebb and flow of Karkat's breathing. It's so calming, so pleasant, and remembering the way it feels against his own chest sparks a pang in his gut, but warm contentment, too. He shouldn't be so happy, and he isn't as happy as he would like to be. He doesn't deserve it, and he thinks it so much, he does, and he says it so much to himself and he knows it gets old but he doesn't deserve happiness, or Karkat, or this moment, but he has it anyway,

And it makes him all the more content for it. 

He sighs, high on the waves of feeling Karkat never seems to stop giving him. "Y'knoww, th'music makes itself a part a'th'silence, after a wwhile."

"Maybe for you, but it's like, blasting in my room, so."

"No it ain't Kar, it's probably mid-vvolume at most. I knoww y'hate loud noises."

"I may hate them but sometimes blowing my eardrums out is a lot easier than dealing with my own bullshit thoughts."

"Y'stop callin' my ass out right th'fuck noww Kar it ain't funny."

"You'd probably cry if you had your music above half volume."

"No I wwouldn't!"

"Yeah you wooooouuuuuld.~"

"Nuh."

"Yuh.~"

"Nnnuh"

"Yyyyyyyuuuuuuuuuuuh~"

"I ain't goin' back an' forth like this forevver 'cause then I'll fall asleep in th'middle a'our convversation but no, I wwouldnt."

He totally would.

"Okay, new conversation;"

He hears him shift around until he's on his stomach, probably kicking his legs in the air, hears the way he traces his finger over his pillow. He bets his hair is a mess. He, hopes he's showered? Karkat isn't the best at it but he's also not the worst, having to shower every morning for work, and before he hangs out with friends. If that gremlin was left to his own devices like Eridan, though, he would probably never shower again, instead choosing to go absolutely fucking feral and only come out of his room for food and whatever else he could bring into it. Does Eridan really care, though? Yes, he does, because that _feels_ gross, and he'd chase Karkat into the shower with an entire bottle of Dawn dish soap in order to scrub off months' worth of built up grime. But even as a stale gremlin, he'd be a cute gremlin. Always.

He hopes he's clean right now. Soft, fluffy hair, a little cold from the way it was dried in the frigid air, ruffled from the way he was tossing and turning in bed, clothes misaligned and bunched in weird places because for some reason, Karkat can get himself into the weirdest of positions. Maybe he showered before he threw himself into his covers, maybe he smells like musk and Irish Spring and applewood smoke, maybe he smells like that sweet marshmallow pumpkin body lotion he keeps under the counter. Maybe it's just a little stronger on the more tender patch of skin on his neck. Elbows propped on his pillow, phone pressed to his ear. He probably looks like a teenage girl gossiping on the phone to her friends.

"What's your favorite type of ass?"

And this gossiping teenage girl has backed him into a corner.

He chokes a bit, stutters and trips on his own tongue, before rushing out a panicked _"Kar!"_ Why? Why has this question been tacked to the discussion board? Is there no peace for him? Betrayal.

"Oh fuck off, I'm kind of curious and we both know we don't have a whole lot to talk about unless we wanna catch up on everything we've been doing and wouldn't you rather save that for when you come over tomorrow because you're doing that??"

Aha, see, this topic is sketchy, because he can't answer truthfully without completely destroying his image, and so he should hold his tongue. It's also something he's not willing to think about on the phone with _Karkat,_ for. Reasons. But interrogation won't work on him, at least, not in this moment, and he can _taste_ the cockiness in his voice, sharp in a sweet way but only for a little bit, like watermelon sour patch. Would his tongue taste the same? Maybe, his lips?

He runs the sharp edge of his teeth over his own lips, careful not to bite down as he thinks there's _gotta be a way_ to turn this conversation in a different direction, before he's forced to tell him what he really thinks. "Hmmmmmbut-"

"Mmmmmbut you know I'm right, huh?"

"Yeah but I don't wwant y't'be Kar damnit." Right about, of course, wanting to catch up face to face, to have something to talk about when he gets there instead of sitting there like some dumb goldfish with a 6 second memory staring at Karkat until he smacks his cheek so hard it bruises violet for weeks.

"Come on, we can even get coffee."

Coffee. He's now aware that there's a _reason_ he was in panic, and all of this could have been avoided if only he didn't drink caffeine. Stupid piece of shit body, and now that he's put on the spot he curses his terrible life choices, but it was _so good,_ and nice and warming when his body was frozen enough to snap at the joints like thin, brittle icicles, and maybe it was worth it, but not really, because he's cold again, now that he's sitting outside his covers, and maybe he should slink back in and count his blessings, including the ones that are him not having a heart attack.

"Oh goddamnit a'course I can't sleep I had some tea before bed an' noww evverythin's gone t'shit."

"You, can't have tea before bed."

"Kar y'don't really knoww th'specific nature a'wwhat's affectin' my dysfunctional ass sack a'flesh."

"No I don't. Again, now that we're back on the topic of ass, spill it Ampora gimme the goods I want that Classified Info right the fuck now what ass makes you wanna give it a good fucking smack?"

It sure is classified information, and it should probably stay that way.

"Stop bein' a raunchy little gremlin y'piss-mouthed weasel an' go build your ferret's nest outta th'trash y'keep pilin' up in th'corner a'your room."

"Come oooooooooon I have no ideas and I wanna KNOW"

That cutesy, pouty tone wrenches his stubborn will from him and he begs, pleads with himself not to give in, but he opens his mouth anyway and everything in him mourns the loss of the barrier it had earlier to protect him from such a thing.

"FINE. I like a guy wwith a big ass y'fuckin' dipshit are y'happy noww?"

"No, there's multiple kinds of 'big ass', what kind?"

There was no hesitation, no time wasted in prodding him for _more,_ the horse is already dead, why beat it, Karkat, and the worst part is that as he beats that dead horse it'll talk to him just the way he wants it to, but in a last ditch attempt to get him to quit it, he quips back with words that leave an acrid aftertaste in his mouth, on the tip of his tongue, and he _hates_ it.

"FUCKIN'- I dunno wwhy I'm entertainin' this thought. I shoulda kept my filthy gobber shut an' noww lookit wwhere I'vve got myself. Havvin' t'answwer a question 'bout wwhether or not a big ass alone constitutes th'urge a'smackin' it. Ain't it enough that it's nice an' big?"

"No."

Nothing is ever enough, nothing he does, nothing he says, and this is no exception, and now that he thinks on it, Karkat is getting exactly what he asked for.

Oh, how he dreads his reaction.

A deep, labored breath, full of his grievances for something he hasn't said yet, and then it falls from his lips, hasty and sharp. "Wwell not t'be a massivve nook kissin' prick or nothin' Kar but if y'like t'havve your ego's fat ass bulge stroked t'all hell wwhy don't y'look in th'damn mirror at your owwn ass for an example a'wwhat kind a'ass is th'fuckin' perfect kind a'ass?"

A pause as Eridan is choking on suspense, waiting for the 'what the fuck is wrong with you' to happen, or for Karkat to hang up, or something, something-

"God you don't have to be so fucking aggressive about getting me off your back, but, like, I guess that burn was fair."

"Kar."

"What?"

"I'm ain't fuckin' usin' some sarcastic bullshit on y'for shits an' giggles."

It's one of the few things he could never find it in himself to be sarcastic about, for if he could, he would have been just now. Maybe he should have let him believe that's what it was, and now that he's cleared it up for him, he has to firmly stick by his position, for the both of them.

"Wait."

He's trying.

"You,"

Yes?

"really like my ass?"

Oh, the way his blood scorches underneath his skin, the way his cheeks smolder and light like glowing hot embers, how his heart swings itself around so carelessly and frantically, flipping through the spaces in his ribs. Hands itch, fins sear at the tips, nervous bubbles popping in his lungs just as his jaw pops when it clenches. It would be so plush under his palms, so squishy and smooshy and nice and round. Pillowy, maybe. The best kind of soft, plump, with slight resistance. The sound it would make if he smacked his hand against it, the way it would jiggle like flan for seconds afterward. The way it might feel against his lap.

Oh, ‘really like’ doesn’t even begin to cover half of it. If he got permission to cup it, even once, if there was anything he could give to have a chance...

It’s embarrassing, what he’d do to have that ass.

"Shut th'fuck up Kar you're th'one wwho asked an' y'got th'uncomfortable honesty y'wwere askin' for!! It ain't my fault I'm tellin' th'damn truth!!"

"But like, _my_ ass though."

Oho, 

"Yeah?"

 _only_ his ass.

"You stare at it long enough to form an opinion on it."

Way too long.

"Wwell wwhen you're bendin' ovver t'movve boxes an' shit it's kinda an inevvitability ain't it?"

The scars he had to bite into his tongue to get himself to control himself, to look away. There’s slight indents, some lacerations are still healing. He can almost taste the blood.

"Do you, stare longer than you're supposed to?"

Oh yeah.

"Wwhat th'fuck kinda question is that Kar wwhat th'hell am I supposed t'say t'that?? If y'must knoww I try t'be as respectful an' thoughtful as possible wwhen it comes t'lookin' too close at y'Kar 'cause I knoww howw uncomfortable my lookin' at people can make 'em. Ain't nobody gotta tell me twwice t'look awway anymore an'-"

"Doesn't answer my question."

"... I mean I might'vve done it once or twwice, but I havven't really done it since I wwas-"

Six sweeps. Everything ended at six sweeps. Sometimes he got a dream bubble to indulge in, with some apparition or even, on his luckiest days, which were far and few-no. No need to think about that, not too hard.

"N, Nevvermind that, noww. Y'got your damn answwer, I hope you're satisfied."

"Actually? Very."

"Wwhat"

Who in their right mind wants an Ampora staring at their ass? People shriek at the idea of having to be in the same room as an Ampora. One time they were playing strip poker as a group and the moment he went to undo his scarf Aradia literally gagged, and Gamzee was sitting there topless. It was his scarf. His, fucking _scarf._ Even Feferi cringed, and she’d already seen him without a shirt o-

... He threw the towel in. Decided to wrap his scarf back up and leave. He should have known, really, that it was a bad idea, some excuse to get Sollux down to his boxers, probably. He doesn’t know how the game went. Doesn’t want to know. No one wants an Ampora around, except for maybe Kankri. No one is desperate enough to subject themselves to that kind of torture.

Karkat is losing his goddamn mind.

That's, that's it, isn't it?

All of this. His sudden interest in him isn't him in the right state of mind. Something's happened to him, some sort of shocking, traumatic event that left his brain in scraps and he can't pick up the pieces on his own, and it's not noticeable because he still acts like a completely functional and normal human being, similar enough to how he used to be that any hints of his condition fly right under the radar. Maybe he snapped, lost his marbles and all of the sudden he isn't himself anymore. Maybe he forgot how bad it was. Did Eridan manipulate him? Did Eridan pull at his strings until Karkat buckled under his control? He's done something. He's done something and it's not good, he thought he was better than this, he thought he was changing-

But what happens if it's none of that? What happens if it's all of his own agency? Then, it has to be an ulterior motive-and whatever it is, he'll let it happen to him just the same. Pushing Karkat away...

He's just being paranoid. It's disgusting, really, to think that way of someone like Karkat.

"Maybe one day I'll let you smack it real nice and hard."

Don’t. _Do that_ to him. Don’t give him some false shred of hope to hold onto, no matter how small. It’s like he’s spitting in his face.

"Kar _wwhat th'fuck does that evven mean"_

"Probably nothing. I just love to see your reaction to dumb shit sometimes."

"Oh, tryin' t'get a rise outta me, huh? Wwell lucky for your sleazy little antics I'm highly reactivve t'just about anythin', but unlucky for me, I'll react t'just about evvery fuckin' thing there is t'react to."

"I know.~ It's fun."

Eridan heaves his insecurities into his next breath, hoping that pushing them out of his body, somehow, will make them leave. "So wwas all that just a bunch a'bullshit t'make me loathe myself a little wworse than before or are y'plannin' t'use that info against me in th'future? 'Cause I knoww y'didn't just ask t'get a kick outta me, as much as you'd like t'havve me believve that, Kar."

",,, I was, actually genuinely curious but now that you've given me the idea..."

"Oh god fuckin' damnit Kar wwould y'SPARE me a bit here?"

"Nah. Your fault for trusting me."

"I mean I guess you're right but, don't tell Captor."

"That would be bad for _you."_

"Wwhich is exactly wwhy I'm tellin' y't'keep your bitch ass fuel chute shut 'round that cockroach lookin' ass vvibrator Kar, I'll nevver hear th'end a'it an' he'll be after me for th'rest a'my damn life. Or, his damn life, I guess."

"You think we can still die?"

"Probably. I mean it might be different for y'cause y'wweren't trapped in wwhatevver dream bubble, and t'be honest, I don't remember anythin' after becomin' Erisolsprite, so maybe I didn't evven get one a'those, but I nevver reached god tier an' I don't think my wwimpy shrimp appendages deservve immortality anywway. Nevver did anythin' wworthy a'note, y'knoww?"

Well, besides ruin everything. No one will let him forget it, and they shouldn't, and he shouldn't wait around for them to stop, because it's what he deserves. And what has he done since then? Be, dead? Be dead. And then come back to life and live a completely arbitraty and meaningless existence and waste space and resources that other people could have. Greedy, selfish, narcissistic, god, he's so full of himself, and he throws his own shit pity parties and they're fucking MASSIVE aren't they? Him and his ego, together in the same room, Eridan small but the other in attendance big enough to eat the entirety of the North Pacific like table scraps, and they feed off of each other's bullshit. He's careless. He's destructive. He babies himself too much, why doesn't he just, fade away, already?

Karkat doesn't need to hear that from him, he has enough on his plate. Fuck. Here he is, being selfish, again. Being some brooding bastard and talking about how shitty he is. Doesn't matter if it's a few passing sentences. It's more than it ought to be. Repair it with some appended optimism.

"I-"

"But maybe I'll make my existence wworth a feww pages in someone else's biography or somethin' if I'm lucky."

Fuck, he's so SHIT at optimism.

"What if I don't really wanna be immortal?"

It's not like he can blame him for that, he'd probably hate being immortal, too. But Karkat has the opportunity to keep those close to him, as he lives his immortal life, so why doesn't he? It would make sense. Even as everything else faded into infinity, he'd have hands to hold, he'd have voices to hear, he'd have warm bodies to hug and heartbeats to feel and listen to and the string of life would still stretch long into the nothingness, become a beacon of light and hope that springs forth new birth and another infinity, another lifetime, one their immortal hands would have crafted just from having their pulses beat in time. And could anyone imagine? The beautiful infinity that would make, one fair and kind and loving and fulfilling, from Karkat's heart. He wishes he could have lived in that infinity. If not live, maybe see it, but it's not what he deserves.

Anyway. Even as he tries to veil his mourning as confusion, it seeps through his tone like a broken pipeline. "Wwhaddya mean? You'd havve evveryone there wwith y'wwouldn't-"

"Not you, though."

Karkat, has lost his mind.

Shaky breaths, apprehension. Should he do something? Should he say no, Karkat, that's not okay of you, that's a terrible idea, that's- "That's, an awwful big statement comin' outta your mouth there, Kar. Mind retractin' that?"

"I would mind a whole fucking lot."

Idiot. Does he not care for himself?

"I, just don't think it'd be, fair, for y't-"

"I don't know what you're about to say, but whatever it is, don't say it. I know what kind of utter crap it's about to be. You fucking heard me, dumbass."

He inhales to speak hot fire, to speak anger, the fucking, idiot, how could he ever, _say,_ something like that, but he hears the same white hot breath from Karkat, faster, more aggressive, hears the tremor in his throat and the boiling in his stomach, and Eridan's stomach corkscrews into his lungs and thickened black fear bubbles into his throat, into his gills.

What the hell is coming that he isn't prepared for, and why does he feel like the spiral downward will end up shattering him again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY DUDES IT'S BEEN TWO WHOLE MONTHS. I have seriously struggled to figure out what I was going to do with this chapter, and I eventually circled around to my first idea, and then I never USED IT. It's coming as soon as possible I p r o m i s e, I couldn't live with myself if I didn't at least get it out before Christmas. Been real sick and shit and whatever and I gotta say, the patience of everyone who comes across this fic is just, holy shit. It's admirable, absolutely fucking mind-boggling and I, just, like??? How??? You lovely human beings, I adore you. All of you, thank you so much, I mean there's not really much else you can do but thank you for sticking with me and waiting. I appreciate it, so much.
> 
> I wrote this chapter, and then I cut it into four pieces. Four. This is the first of the four. Please spare me from my own mistakes.
> 
> Uh big shoutout to sp8ce for commenting on this because it's probably why you got this chapter now instead of at the end of the year. Seriously guys. I gain BIG WRITING ENERGY when people are excited or talking about my stuff it makes me super happy! Even when I feel like garbage. It's important to me okay? It makes my day. Those comments? One of the few things that kept me determined to churn out this fic before November ended, and I fuckin tried REALLY HARD. Chucked like, hundreds of pages worth of drafts into the trash. Seriously. Chapter 10 kicked my ASS, but for you three, sp8ce, akgerhardt, and bellmandi86, I have made it happen. 
> 
> If you wanna check out some shit tumblr posts about hemospectrum I made a little bit ago you totally should (or should not?) My writing voice is a little different since it's mostly me shouting at myself but these little tumblr posts are pretty fucking crucial to this fic, and it'll actually give you a better idea of what's going on if you read them? Like I know it doesn't make sense right this second but it totally will if you give it a shot:
> 
> https://candiedbonemarrow.tumblr.com/post/188623597160/blood-proteins-and-pigments-in-trolls
> 
> https://candiedbonemarrow.tumblr.com/post/188623599990/troll-hormone-spectrum
> 
> Have an absolutely wonderful November (I was REALLY hoping to get this out by Halloween but there were too many words ;-;) and hopefully I'll have an update for you before the month ends? Maybe by Christmas I'll even get you a SMUT chapter oooooo
> 
> Edit: changed a word in this because of the implications of said word! Now it's fixed


	11. Echoes of LOWAA

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The storm before the next in a seemingly infinite night, there's no end to the dark they're about to enter. Someone give him the guiding beacon of light he desperately needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set the mood with the album I wrote this chapter to:
> 
> https://open.spotify.com/album/358HhLekPvkg13A1dDPfhT?si=fDwBO_NjSbiaCW4EqGRuYQ
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sfPapxO550o&list=PLjPYu83VEVb6pYJ6o2KjJ3w5CfMdaSaBE

"I already told you I miss you. I already told you I want to spend time with you. Why would I feel any different about making a statement like that?"

It comes out with a bite that sinks into the webbing of his fin and the tip of his ear. Sharp teeth, given life in tone, pearly white and hot, intent on charring beyond recognition. He winces, though when he goes to feel for the bite, it's not there. Here's the problem with that whole, statement thing. See, there is something here Karkat's forgetting, and Eridan, too, has forgotten it for a brief moment, for his own sanity, but it bubbles and churns just below the surface of his skin. It'll strike, later. There is no doubt in his mind, what little of it is available to process much of a rational and coherent thought, anyway. 

He wants to steer the conversation away, with, something, but Karkat won't let it go, the tremors in his breath make evident that fact. He even tries to interrupt, Karkat is just, faster. "You know what the worst part is? I used to feel different about it and I hate it. I hate every single fucking moment I ever loathed you. It's hard to live with myself because I took a look at a friendship I'd built since before I knew friendship and a friendship I'd built in the past sweep and I chucked out the one that mattered more because I thought to myself, there's no fucking way this guy is thinking rationally."

But he was right. Of course Eridan was thinking irrationally. Isn't that the whole point? He should have kept his head, he-but even more importantly, maybe Karkat had built a friendship with a different Eridan. An apparition built on a foundation of lies, though it was everything Eridan wanted to be. Or maybe it was him, after all, but whoever that Eridan was is gone, and had wasted away long before they entered the game, and Eridan's inner colors were spilled out before them in a visceral painting of truth. At least they got to see him for what he was, right? At least they were able to look out onto that filthy thing splattered on the gray tiles of the lab floor and come to the collective thought that he was all the worst parts of trollkind put together. That, that gives _him_ comfort, because it means whatever this is can be fixed. It can be fixed. He can fix it, and Karkat won't have to-

"No one was thinking rationally. Not even me. Especially not me."

Who CARES? Of course no one was thinking rationally! They were all about to-

"I constantly bickered with myself when I could have just DONE things! I got hung up over my bullshit and completely fucked us over because I was supposed to be leading and what the fuck did I even do? What did I do? Assign my disfunction to my teammates who needed me? I was supposed to straighten us all out! What the fuck was I even on about? I, Eridan."

He'd done more for that meteor than anyone else there, because somehow, he was one of the few that could keep focused, even with all of the distraction he made for himself. And he understands, he does; Karkat and Eridan have the same problem, easily baited into conversations and arguments when they could just as easily drop it. There's some part of them that can't let things go, at least, in the moment, and isn't that why he's still on the phone? He could, just-

"And we were 13 just like John and Dave and we were stupid out of our minds and shaking and angry and afraid."

They were young, and they were afraid, and that's something no one seems to understand fully, not even themselves. And they were THERE, experiencing that fear together, the kind that tied everyone's stomachs in a big chain with thick knots and secured them with needles and clamps and whenever anyone moved, everyone else's stretched with them, and the needles dug in further and further and they bled out, all over their clothes. Painful fear, impossible to escape from, because who wanted to die there? If they'd only worked together more, if only he hadn't been so occupied with his own ego, with his own agenda-

"If maybe one of us took a moment to listen-"

He can't, let him go on about this anymore. It's, not, fair. "I wwasn't thinkin' rationally an' it wwas still my fault for doin' it."

"But NO ONE ELSE TOOK ACCOUNTABILITY."

It almost bursts his eardrums, and he drops his phone to the pillow, clasps his palm over the side of his head to check for more bleeding, hoping that maybe, it's still intact. He swears, he SWEARS he feels warm liquid leak from his head, but when he pulls his hand away and inspects it, the only blood there is smeared on his fingertips from brushing over his horns and already dried in the healing lacerations of his palm. Something akin to the art of fixing broken pottery with liquid gold, only Eridan's hands are kept together by fragile strands of rich violet. He squeezes it, and the scabbing breaks, and there's that warm gush of blood, pooling in his cupped palm, slowly, and a trickle flows down the back of it when he starts to tremble. It doesn't hurt. It, doesn't hurt. Why is it somehow the only part of him that isn't screaming, and yet, the only part that's freely bleeding?

And then Karkat's voice slashes through his thoughts again, a white sword cutting through dense darkness and blinding him, enough for him to grip at his head to try and stop the oncoming blaring headache. "Yeah okay, people died. The Matriorb was destroyed. There were multiple people who escalated that situation far beyond what it should have escalated to and you're the one who takes the brunt of it? Why? Because you fired the first shot? Fuck, you didn't even kill the first body in that fucking hellhole. It was probably Vriska, or Gamzee, but because you're you, because you're Eridan, you're somehow solely responsible for every wrong doing that happened in that room. You're the only one at fault. And in our stupid chicken heads with their little pea brains we believed that was the most rational decision we'd made that day. You even had IMMEDIATE consequences when Kanaya chased after you and cut you down, and you faced confrontation about the whole thing before it even happened."

Something small, quaking in the darkest corner of the room, something that fears its existence will fade by making itself known, that it'll be crushed by an assault of violent words until it's nothing more than a smear against paint. It has to make itself known anyway, and it does. "I don't like any a'wwhat you're sayin', Kar."

"Would you listen for a m-"

"No."

Does he not understand? That a killer can't claim he's been hurt by the bodies on the ground? That no one should be able to say the blood on his hands is no fault of his own? The words string out from behind him, too, a mouth that isn't his, words in shades of blue and grey that clink when they plummet, thump with the weight they hold. They shouldn't hold any, they should be meaningless and flighty and disperse on contact with the air. What the hell is he thinking? What the hell is he THINKING? Why does he sound like he believes them when he has made it so clear to him, before, that-

The breath Karkat takes in is sharp, but he'll steal the knife from his tongue and pierce it through his lungs himself, so that Karkat doesn't have to stain his sweater violet. "I ain't wwillin' t'do nothin' but owwn up t'it in full noww that I havve th'chance t'do so. I already had it taken from me, an' talkin' like that makes it sound like y'don't believve I shoulda been punished for it."

Punished further. He knows what he got, but Kanaya should have sat there for hours and taken the time to carve him into something unrecognizable, leave shredded chunks of his corpse littered across the meteor, so sparse that no one would have to worry about looking at more than an inch of him at any given time, wouldn't have to be reminded of his existence. He should have been flung into an incinerator so that he could have felt the pain long enough to really understand what he'd done to everyone, to feel what they were feeling. Something as long and torturous as possible, drawn out until he was unable to cling to life any longer. He should have felt their suffering, the torment of their ancestors, and of every troll that suffered before them. And after death, he should have been given more. But maybe the isolation was enough.

"I should havve."

Karkat's breathing isn't audible, and that scares him, but he has the slightest suspicion it's fear that's keeping him silent. Fear of him? Maybe, and he has every right to be afraid. What he's talking to is barely a creature capable of true emotion, of sympathy. If Karkat is still on the other end, he hopes maybe, by the end of this, he'll have second thoughts about seeing him tomorrow, or ever again.

"Maybe I already got my punishment, but if you're still ovver here talkin' 'bout it, y'think about that moment evvery day. Y'think about it as th'catalyst for murder an' destruction an' evverythin' y'evver had t'fix that wwasn't wworth fixin'. Evverythin' y'had t'vvieww that wwasn't wworth vviewwin'."

Everything. They could have been spared so much pain- _no_ , he could have been spared so much pain. He was the only one left standing, he was the only one left to make a decision as to whether or not his life would end, and yet,

And yet.

But it wasn't kindness that kept him grounded there, was it?

"Maybe wwe entered that game an' shit happened an' wwe wwon an' wwe doomed ourselvves an' it wwas utter shit. So fuckin' wwhat?"

The ceiling dances before him, now, swirling like liquid silicone, sheets rise and fall as if the bed has lungs, as if at any moment they might leap up and swallow him. All of his furniture, no matter where he looks, takes the shape of a living, breathing thing, expanding and collapsing in a mismatched rhythm, which only works to make them more human, more alive, and the walls behind every person in that room whip by as if running in circles, trapping him in movement. As if he wasn't already trapped. As if he could get up to reach for the door handle. And he does try, he does, only for him to buckle enough to be laying on his side, right next to his phone. His pillow soaks in the blood smeared on his face, in his hair and all over his horn, the blood that still oozes from his hand.

"Evveryone wwas doin' their damned best t'make us undoomed an' y'knoww what? Maybe wwe wwoulda succeeded if I'd kept my damn mouth shut." He squeezes the pillow until the fabric buries itself in his wound and he has to pluck the sticky pillowcase from the open muscles of his hand. Such a mess. And still, without thinking, he digs his nails into his scalp, hair clinging to the still-tacky tissues uncovered when he cracked the scabbing.

"Maybe if I'd just wwent an' minded my owwn business an' fucked right off t'hell wwith all th'angels I sent there wwe wwoulda been just fine."

Some sort of damnation, right? Some retribution. Some deliverance for those who suffered.

"I came in wwith my self-righteous ass an' told evveryone wwhat they wwere doin' wwas a futile effort an' wwe should all pack it up an' go home. After evveryone wwas bleedin' themselvves dry a'evverythin' they had. I spat in their faces."

They were hanging on at the edge of a splitting rope, threadbare and thin and he saw it slicing into their hands, just as his own hand is sliced in fragments, and what did he do? What kind of talk did he bring to them? Did everyone stop fighting, after what he'd done? Did he really bring their only chance of victory to its end, or were they fine without him? He, doesn't know. He still doesn't know and why should he know? He hasn't earned it. But even as he saw them clinging with the hope he could never have, pleading with the world for something to help them through, he was blind to his own foolery. He may have been weary and sore and frail enough to fall to pieces at a single touch, burst into tears at the smallest word of encouragement. Did it warrant his script? Did it justify his need to tell everyone they should give up, when they were scraping the bottom of the barrel and he was simply lying there doing nothing?

"Wwouldn't it make sense that they wwould be angry wwith me before I evver lost my shit?"

And Karkat, weren't you angry? Didn't you go to him and-not yet. We're not there yet.

"Wwouldn't it make sense that I wwoulda deservved it after all?"

Because what DOESN'T he deserve, really?

"I knoww I wwoulda gone after myself wwith a chainsaww if I wwas talkin' that wway about my friends' efforts. An' maybe that's exactly wwhat I wwanted."

Because it was.

"Maybe I realized I wwasn't wworth th'trouble a'it all, after all, wwhen I heard those ugly little wwords come outta th'mouth I least expected them to."

He thought he'd never give up, after all this time, not when his friends needed him, and still,

"I betrayed myself, an' evverythin' I believved in, an' all a'my friends' hopes an' dreams an' Kar, most a'all, I fuckin' betrayed you."

A blast that echoed in hollow walls for the rest of eternity. His crimes will be immortalized there, even if maybe that meteor is long gone, stained pink and yellow and green forever in the fabric of time, the last beats of their trembling hearts static sound waves waiting to vibrate and pulse in their bodies again. Someone's body, if not their own, and if he could pluck them from their permanent hold in time, return that moment to the small gap in their chests, he would. He'd give anything to be a time player, to have the power to go back and stop himself, to be able to salvage what little he could, maybe end it all before it could begin. Yes, that's it. End it all. If he could prevent himself. If, at the very least, he could have saved one life. Just, one.

He can feel the blood running between his fingers, gushing from both his palms like hot gelatin, thick as the pressure he laid across Karkat's chest. The only one left alive in that room, because even when everyone else was white, strung out before him against the darkness of his own heart, Karkat was red. Red anger underneath a blanket of gray, color bursting from his chest, from his eyes, from his heart. His heart. Bruised violet with fear, and with betrayal, loud screeching that pierced through the constant thrumming and white noise, weeping _' **HOW COULD YOU? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO THEM? DO YOU FEEL NOTHING?'**_ Over, and over, and over and over, hole after hole after hole and if only. If only it would have killed him. If only he'd crashed to the blood-soaked tile then, if only his knees had given out and he'd fallen on his wand and it had pushed clean through his chest and threaded pieces of his own heart between his ribs and the woven fibers of his sweater. If he'd had the sense to turn the wand on himself, instead of throwing his arms out in front of him, trying to reach for life already fading before him. Would Karkat have understood? Would Karkat have cared? He shouldn't have cared even if he would have, but he wonders, would he?

But no. No, if he'd done that, there would have been no point. He wouldn't have truly been able to die, if he'd done the just thing and said 'I hear you. I'm sorry.' It would have balanced the scale, and allowed for life, as the truly just and moral action would have been to take his life before someone else had to do so. Eridan was not in a place to make himself a saint for any reason, nor did he want to assign justice to his list of doings. And what would that make that white lance through Feferi, then? 'I'm going down, but I'm taking you with me,' after he'd come to her to supposedly give her another chance at life? No! No, for it to be a suicide would have turned his sins from leeches to eldritch horrors, more selfish and vile and repulsive than a supposed lashing out for being rejected. The point of no return. The only choice was to become the villain he'd already decided to be, and instill anger and justice into someone who could kill him the right way. Drowned in thick darkness like black tar that flooded his lungs until they burst with a slurry of gooey, clouded, liquid death, a mixture of his own blood and the void he'd swallowed and breathed. There was no point in saying sorry. There's still no point in saying sorry. That same sticky tar lingers in the deepest parts of his person, his very core, and it will never leave.

It,

Will never,

Leave.

Smash him against the spiked and iced floor of the ninth layer of hell until he bursts into the tenth, and fling him into the pit, throw the torch in, and watch him burn. Watch him burn alive until he's nothing more than smoking ash, in a layer that doesn't even exist except for to punish him, and let him atone for something he can never fully atone for. If there is no redemption for his sins, why allow him to hurt anyone else any longer by giving him a life he proved he wasn't deserving of? He's the perfect fire starter, the perfect scapegoat, and if the devil is not made in his image, then there is no hell. Let him be the tinder for someone else's flame of life. Let his death bring out the gift of virtue and repentance he knows life holds. Why won't the world give them solace? Why can't he die?

Why, can't he die? He thought he was getting better. He thought he was getting _better._

It shouldn't be better.

The betrayal slices at him from the inside out, branches out from his veins like white hot powerlines, charged with voltaic energy. It crackles, strikes at his stiffened muscles to shatter them until his limbs are dried clay that crumbles into the void. Copper wire poked into his skin like threaded needles, spiraled through his bones. His fault. His fault. Everything is his fault. Karkat, oh, Karkat, if only he hadn't committed it where Karkat had to suffer through it. He can only imagine the weight he must carry even now, as Eridan sits here, breathing like jet engines, like the vacuum of space ripping oxygen particles from the free air to suck in. He should stop. Stop. Breathing.

His heart tells him he'd reach out for his hand, foolishly, and he'd keep holding on even if Karkat dragged him down to the deepest layers of hell if it would mean he'd get to have his hand in his one more time before his soul was condemned for eternity. He would. He would take the chance if offered, regardless of the consequences, but to be offered something so grand is a luxury he should be barred from indulging in.

"An' I told myself I'd be there t'help you, I told myself I'd be your goddamn right hand man all th'wway t'hell an' back an' wwhat did I do?"

He was supposed to be there.

"I spent evvery minute I coulda been sparin' t'your time fuckin' around for my owwn selfish gain."

He was supposed to, be there, he promised himself he would walk him through everything and yet he let himself get trapped there on LOWAA, flying wisps of drowned bodies chasing him enough to wear him down into a fight, bodies with wings like butcher blades gathered together in bundles and rows of teeth that were meant for grinding prey into nothing more than strange liquid meat. So much like the lifeless corpses of those that Vriska and Eridan, together, decided to steal the life from when they would play pretend as if they were their ancestors before them, wreaking havoc on the life of the water. Ones that Eridan, while he never shot to kill, only frighten, or maybe hurt just enough for them to be able to limp away, always gave Vriska the motive to finish. Watching them fall, drop, their weight teeter over the edge of their ships until they plummeted into the ocean below only to float on the surface, drift like debris on top of the waves, empty eyes and vacant vessels seeing nothing, but still, right through him, visions scraped forever in his mind. Nameless. Soon, faceless, as he would throw blankets over them in order to give them some sort of twisted respect. Angels in their image, those bodies draped in damp cloth, and in the image of the lusii he shot dead into the water, coming back to remind him of his sins. To haunt him, torment him just as he deserved.

He let himself get trapped in the punishment, in the soul-sucking labor of living through every vivid memory that brought him to his knees screaming, and instead of pulling himself from the black hole he'd created for himself and coming to support Karkat, who was grinding himself until bone showed through muscle, he made more of those vivid memories, as he watched their now lifeless bodies drop from the sky and crash against the blinding tiles of the hallowed halls of LOWAA. Fitting. Fitting that they would be laid to rest in a place of sanctity by a tormentor so unstoppable he could not even stop himself, no matter how strong his will when he entered the medium. Though he was swarmed, though they locked their jaws around his arms and sucked the very soul from him until his eyes rolled back white and he couldn't hold himself up, anymore, though he had to keep his gun firing on each adversary for longer than a minute before they finally were thieved of their lives, they were harmless. They, at first, were HARMLESS, and he only found out too late, before they turned on him, rightfully, to defend themselves. He should have known Vriska was wrong. He should have known not to turn his weapon on them. The only noises he ever heard there were the screaming of poor angels and the thumps of their bodies from below when they hit the ground, and as much as they wore him down, the silence hurt more.

Silence, like the void between his words, only he can hear his pulse throbbing through every inch of himself. It tries to seep into the darkness, the inky black, the kind of blackness he spilled all over the glittering white chapels of his land, until he'd painted it with death, with murder. Somehow, it was easier on his eyes than this, even against the stark contrast of the blankness of the sky.

"Y'wwere all th'vvictim a'my owwn shit brain because all it could think about wwas itself."

A victim. Backed into a corner like a startled rabbit, made to stand by and watch, eyes wide and flightly and filled with tears that streaked blue down the burning red of his form, blue and gray like sombre spring rain, grief-stricken skies that pour the mourning of the heavens down on the world, onto the skin of those who grieve all the same, whose hearts are filled so heavily with pain they threaten to burst out before the world in broken sobs.

"Repentance is all I wwanna knoww. Don't matter if I'm not th'only one at fault. I started it, an' I shoulda ended it before it evver started."

Justice. Justice for them, in the form of erasing his existence from every timeline and allowing them the peace they'll never have, now.

"God, this ain't wwhat I wwas expectin' t'talk about t'night an' noww I'll nevver get t'sleep, but I'm th'one wwho called, so it's my fault, ain't it?"

Stupid of him, to ever press the button. The phone should have snapped under his fingers and stabbed into them with shards of glass, until they shot all the way up to his heart and cut it until it could beat no more.

"I'm sorry."

Karkat's voice, apologetic, and soft, like it doesn't belong. No, that's not for him. It isn't. 

"No, Kar, I'm th'one wwho's sorry."

As he should be, as anyone with or without a pulse should be, for his actions, for his birth and for his continued breath, but even still,

"An' it still ain't enough."

It will never be enough.

And here, where the silence threatens to drop on him like heavy construction pipes and kill him where he lays, here is where the searing white anger of Karkat's last words resurface, where they shave spirals behind his eyes and shred themselves into the back of his skull to never be forgotten, ever again. They reflect onto his skin from inside his head, blaring like the light of a flashlight through his gaze. And even as they are white, still, he remembers the color of the script they were typed in, and it battles with the image of emotion Karkat displayed there in that fateful moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare yourselves. The next chapter will not be so easy on you.
> 
> January 29th.


End file.
